Iodine
by obliviousbushtit
Summary: Never in Mewtwo's wildest dreams did he ever think he would unwind himself of Rocket alive. More unexpected was his fateful encounter with Ash. whose penchant for battle awakens the Legendary deep inside him. Yearning to be more than his namesake, he throws himself into a life of heroics and turmoil. But, not all was set in stone - and other Legendaries time eternal will see to it.
1. Ketone (Caught in the Middle)

**_Most of Mewtwo's backstory has been stripped away to suit this fic's needs. His clone friends don't die, for instance. His character will be majority OC. Now with that out of the way, let's dive in._**

* * *

Life left a lot to be desired when it first started out for me.

'Course, this sort of morbid grievance applies to almost every living being which has come into existence, but I believe I am more than in the right to say I had been dealt with one of Life's shittier hands. Shady asshole.

Shit, I feel vain just mulling over it. Still, it would make a good exercise of introspection. To reflect on my past, be informed of the future - all that crude jazz. Would have thrown the notion of flirting with such an _elderly _notion out of the window. 'Better never than late' was a phrase I aspired to make my figurative soulmate.

Still, with all the time I have left - which would probably stretch forevermore for all I knew - I may as well start. Already saw all that is to be seen in the world, from Kalos to Sinnoh and back again. I can almost taste the mould jutting and prodding from my eyebags.

You never know when it will end. Maybe it will be when Arceus delivered on that rapture promise he made Ash and me when we were hanging at his place. Maybe when the weather trio decides to wreak havoc again even after I forced them to _talk _instead of _act_. Normally, the opposite would be seen as the more responsible choice, but I could make no heads or tails around these sorry bastards. The pettiest _incle _of a conflict would escalate to an all-out apocalypse if I left those two well enough alone.

Oh, here I go again with these tangents. Every Ketchum family gathering, the young ones would call out these growing habits and grate on my nerves to no end - parroting over and over again about how _old _I was getting. See who would have the last laugh once I stand by their deathbeds.

Figuratively, of course. God_damn_, am I old.

Seeing as I am not getting any younger, I may as well give it a go. My first and probably only story about how I took those cards I flung it at the dealer's scroungy little face. Here's the tale of how a legendary clone destined for evil saved the world. Twice over.

* * *

Every legend has to start from somewhere. I won't lie: my origin story ticked all the boxes. Estranged parents, debilitating child life, a story of how I rose from the pressure - I had it all. It was a sob story on both accounts.

Team Rocket never cared for the little man, so long as it all worked in getting them closer to the only thing their organisation strived for: world domination. Atrocities and crimes against humanity and Poke-kind alike were always seen as excusable in their eyes - all that mattered was the end goal. The bottom line was this: so long as they were the only ones instigate the fight, no one else will. Giovanni had been so focused on the small picture, he forgot the big. So intent on searching for peace he never thought the ways he sought it would turn and backfire on him. A classic case of good intentions gone bad. In that case, he was hardly any different.

Among those backfires was the nature of existence. For all intents and purposes, I shouldn't even exist. But Gio had the bright idea of cloning Mew's genes in hopes of creating a new 'perfect' breed of Pokemon that would serve him, and only him. Have I mentioned how much he craved for world domination yet?

Can't say I felt sorry for the guy.

In fact, he was so disillusioned from his dreams, the dense shit never thought that perhaps a legendary may prove too much for nimble scientists to handle as they prodded and pricked at it with tubes, syringes and whatnot. Me being born, made and grown in a tube made of glass all by myself was, by all accounts, a bad move. Whatever. His loss in the end.

Poetic that _I_ would be the one to throw a wrench in his plans. Guess just who the clone was. But there was so much more that happened leading up to my escape. So much more _motive_.

My childhood was, for a lack of a better adjective, cold. The first years of my life was a spreadsheet of numbers and deadlines that seemed to never end. I saw walls, ceilings and little natural light. They didn't have the balls to give us a glimpse of the world outside Rocket Laboratories - that would give us clones too much motivation to breach containment. I was grown inside a glasshouse alongside countless others. Maybe if they treated us nicer we would be more inclined to respect them more. Honestly, rookies, these people.

The hardest days for me were always Tuesdays. Every week and every hour which slinked by, dread took over me as the deadline crawled from three, to two, to one.

The scientists had taken to calling it the endurance and tolerance part of my training regime. Didn't seem that way to me - it was more akin to...

Well, I wouldn't say torture. The worst they did was lash at me with a whip for a solid minute, but that was for only ever for a minute. Torture meant so much more than it did to me at the time; thank Arceus I was spared of that nonsense other Pokemon under abusive trainers had to endure.

Yeesh; I was a sissy, now looking back at it!

But that was all I ever knew. The pain, the power, the isolation. Do that to a kid from the moment he can comprehend the state of his surroundings, stir him in a pot, step to a safe distance back-aways and observe what happens.

Nothing good.

Guess which one of those three factors did a number on me the most.

Still, credit's where credit's due. The least I could give the Rocket scientists was that they had my best interests in mind - in a weird, mechanical sort of way. I was given the best supplements, the best diet, the best training regiment any aspiring Pokemon master could want and more. If it wasn't for the fact I had been hooked up on tubes in a lab half the time, I'd say I had been living the dream.

But the thing was all on a schedule, see.

Training in the morning, lab work in the afternoon, home 'schooling' at night. It worked both for and against them. For in that they had the benefit of overseeing my psychic abilities reach their maximum potential. Against in that they helped my psychic abilities reach their maximum potential. Funny how that works.

Funnily enough, that schedule was probably what led me to haul ass away from their labs in the first place.

The scientists figured that a young Pokemon like me needed social interaction with the other clones; to isolate me from society would stunt my intellectual growth as well as object to any social interaction I would have in the near future, something they desperately didn't want nor need. That said, the fella who made me should have put more effort into editing some submission DNA in my genome - because I sure as hell was free to disobey their orders whenever I wanted most of the time.

This sordid business led to a blossoming friendship I still regret ever forming to this day. Cos I sure as hell didn't deserve _them_.

Amber. Or rather, Amber-Two. And she... well, she was a character.

A character I could only ever hope to live up _half_ to. To sum her up in a word: she was foregoing.

Like me, she had the wits about her to know that she wasn't manufactured as part of some genuine scientific endeavour to advance humanity and consequently Pokemon. No, clone-tech would have been squashed by ethic committees if so much as a slither of development got out.

She realised early on her being there was a means to suit an end.

But it was not until much later after some of the scientists had slipped did she find out how she came into being. From the way she reacted when I talked to her about it, she didn't like it one bit.

The girl didn't want to live in the shadow of her deceased counterpart, someone who she could only ever act as a memory of and nothing more.

Amber-Two decided she wanted out.

Those scientists slipped _bad_ in that regard. Information that there was _indeed _an outside world ciphered through the cracks. Apparently, some of her caretakers were talking about where they should head for lunch later that afternoon at what they thought was behind her back. Needless to say, her prying eyes and ears never skipped a beat.

When they let us out of our pens for 'playtime' as they took to calling it - that being Amber and most of our cloned Pokemon friend group - she relayed her discovery.

Look, I never discounted the possibility of there being another world well over a thousand times larger than the labs, but I was still shocked nonetheless. Everybody had to be young, dumb and naive at some stage. I hadn't developed the ability to read minds yet (not that I used it down the line, anyway; a tad too invasive for my tastes), so I was kept in the dark most of the time.

And off to the corner somewhere, Char, Bulba and Squirts had their entire world views turned upside down. That their lives had been lies all along. You lot should have seen the look on their faces - there was comedy to last an ice age.

One thing led to another and it was not before long that we decided we would have the fullest intentions of breaking out Rocket Laboratories.

But make no mistake; by no means did we ever think it was going to be easy.

Amby's side project (a pretty name for what was really reconnaissance work) yielded that the place was locked up tighter than a brothel merchandised virgin - every nook and cranny we would turn over there was some form of security deterrent.

Fortunately, they had a legendary Psychic around.

My morning training sessions meant that my personal trainers took every possible liberty to ensure my transvection abilities is at its optimal performance every waking second of the day.

They really should have thought internal security through. Those cameras were more manipulable than gambling addicts at a casino.

The plan was simple yet ingenious. Plant fake, dummy copies of our forms in our holding pens with my psychic powers as we make our damning escape. It was risky, but as it turned out, guards within the walls were none the wiser.

Problem was, those dummies were just that: dummies. While psychically there, our copies wouldn't be able to respond to stimuli - no way in hell would anyone develop that level of ability bar Arceus and Mew themselves. Take it from me: those two are no pushovers.

Unfortunately, there was no portal in hell that did not open when the plan launched to phase two - the phase this entire ramshackle plan revolved around. Escape.

In _just_ a joyous turn of events, one of our caretakers decided to take it upon himself to visit Amber for inspection. I will let you mull over what his real intentions were.

Once he found out, he sounded the alarm. Guards soon flooded the entire facility from front and back - covered the exits, covered the sewers, covered every conceivable door they could think of. All but one factor protected us from us being discovered almost immediately: they forgot we were _children_.

Luckily, they never thought to check the ventilation shafts. Unluckily, when I said they covered every exit, I meant it.

_Of_ _course_, some of them were set up on the roofs. With Giovanni's predisposition to overtly irrational paranoia, this setup was almost a lock-on guarantee.

Ironically, with us youngins', the plan was due to fail from the start.

We were in over our heads.

We were overconfident. I couldn't even teleport _one _of my friends, much less _myself_ out of there. Too weak, didn't know the outside world at all.

That was to be the start of our downfall.

Off came the ventilation roof rafters, and the first thing our merry band of convicts were greeted with was a legion of gun barrels staring down at us... and Rocket goons wearing smirks which screamed arrogance. Other than the frail moonlight washing over the roof with its dull glow, not much could be seen outside our immediate periphery. All kinds of creatures from the forest which surrounded the place fell on deaf ears, not a needle dropped or a tumbleweed tossed. Just us, and their guns; think we would have been more reflective if not for the fact we would be flat as pancakes if we so moved a muscle.

And you know, to this day, I still think the course of action I took was for the best at the time. If only to rub their grins off their faces. I ended up doing the only thing I knew how.

Levitation. _Psychic_.

Thus, with but a cock of my fingers, the grunts quickly found that their legs no longer connected to the ground - and before they had a chance to react, they were tossed topside like a toddler would his doll.

A second of silence whisked by us before our panicked group looked each other over.

Not two moments later, our minds were made up: make a dash for it into the forest, stick close, and pray to Arceus we would survive the ordeal.

Neither of us objected.

So we did.

Some days, I would wish one of us had.

* * *

To put it lightly, we were fishes out of water. None of us had any idea what forests were, much less what to expect when traversing it. If we were being honest with ourselves, some small parts of us believed we wouldn't even have got past the first stage. We were having a fun time as any when hunters chased after our skin. That is to say, not at all.

We got so lucky.

We certainly hadn't expected to slip past the guards so easily. No doubt that Team Rocket had hope we were indoctrinated enough that we didn't even think about escaping. Wishful thinking, fellas.

Bulba had taken to conquering the forest the best among us - to be expected, seeing as he was a grass type. Char had it worst; he was out of his element, and out of his league. With the amount of dexterity he had, we had to resort to carrying him on my shoulders.

By carried, I meant levitated.

Unfortunately, just as we were three quarters our way through the forest, our rotten luck had come to bite us in our arses.

Things took a turn for the worst. Emphasis on that adjective.

It was to be the moment where I became what I am today.

It was the night that cemented my core character trait which influenced every decision I debilitated and made for years to come.

Cowardice.

* * *

Leaves of every type battered against our faces as we lumbered across the spindling forest bed. The first signs of dawn spilt over the night sky in brushstrokes of violet - not a single cloud seen or bird shrilled.

Being kids, we could only run for so long... and a run slowed turned into a jog. Our eyelids could barely stay up.

'Course, it's generally a rule of thumb during escape attempts that what comes next would not be very good. But hey, what do you expect of a naive, gullible kid?

"So tired... it hurts to walk..." Squirtle whimpered, the sensitive soul forming the first signs of tearing on his eyebags. "My feet hurt a lot. It can't feel them anymore..."

Charmander's gaze lifts up, lips tightening in its resolve. "Mewy, it's okay. Let me down. Squirts needs the rest; use psychic on him instead."

Gritting my teeth somberly, I shook my head. _"No need."_

"But you will-"

_"I can handle it."_

With that, Squirts was lifted off the ground alongside Charmander, albeit a little bit rockily at first. Even with all my endurance training, lifting any object for four hours - give or take - will be a challenge for even the most vigilant Psychics. Still, I lifted them both, even if I knew it killed me.

We knew if we stopped now we were as good as dead. Giovanni would not even consider stopping his pursuit unless we either have managed to reach someplace more populated or disappeared off the face of the earth entirely - and even then, there was no telling if he decided it was not worth the trouble of deploying region-wide search party later.

That was the only thing that kept us going. A motive that was fading faster by the second.

But not for Amber. Amber was the only one with the resolve and the tenacity to push us whelps forward, even in our lowest lows. She said it before, and she said it again:

"Don't... worry about what's behind you... it will only slow you down. It will only _weigh _you down. The only thing that will determine what comes before is the past. The only thing that will determine what comes after that is the future. Don't think about them, hope to never think about them. All that matters is to keep on moving."

Somehow, every sentence that oozed from her lips made her seem like she had wisdom beyond her age. Beyond my _current _age.

By the time we caught a glimpse of some of the barbed wire fences Amber told us about, we were already half-dead. We didn't know when or where we were going to be ambushed, we just knew we were going to be. The anticipation was killing us.

Amber, ever the most level-headed of the group, refused to go cross-eyed now. "Guys, quiet. We might trip - trigger a trap."

We tiredly nodded.

After a silent exchange of words, we agreed on a battle formation: Bulba covered the front, Amber covered our flank and the rest scoped the ground in search of any traps we may set off.

Ahead of us were endless logs of trees hampering our sight, but even so, the gates looming above the canopy gave us a clear direction of where to go.

I managed to spot a few lucky padded leg-holds which would have made our feet mincemeat for sure - skirted around them so that we wouldn't give them any indication about where we headed.

"Nice spotting."

_"Thanks, Amber."_

She probably only complimented me to boost morale for all of us, knowing her - and she meant it that way, too. Amber... always looking out for everyone but herself. Whatever her clone was like, kindness seemed to be one of their core character traits.

"Guys, we are almost there. Just a bit more, and-"

Try as we might, Team Rocket knew a bunch of kids were no match to a pound of Houndooms.

Which was precisely what they deployed them at the last minute. Amber couldn't sense it, but we could. Call it innate instincts, if you will, but the very idea of Houndooms ripping us to shreds terrified us to no end.

That's how we heard their howls for our blood so quickly. Who knew psychological warfare works surprising well with kids?

Fear soon slunk under our skins quicker than a pistol whip. For the lack of a better word, we were paralysed - rooted on the spot, shakily conjuring thoughts of how we would be torn apart limb by limb. Only Amber could bring us back to reality, and she was having none of it. "Over the fence; RUN!"

It didn't take turning into an Alakazam to know that this was the best course of action.

The edges of forest soil parting at the pressure of fidgety feet, we took off in earnest, and into the labyrinth of ferns and bushes we went.

It would soon become clear we were never going to get where we wanted.

* * *

I should have known they factored us escaping into one of their shit-lists. Team Rocket is nothing if not maniacal with their attention to detail when it came to protecting their top assets.

So, they laid a trap at every conceivable turn.

It was only a matter of time one of us stepped on them. Even if Bulbasaurtwo was one with the forest, it didn't ward him off his ability trigger traps.

A slight force of exertion was all it took for the trap to set off. Immediately, a clamp chomped on one of his feet, a yelp escaping his throat. "ARGH!"

All of us swung our faces towards his general direction with varying degrees of horror.

"Guys, my leg! I, I can't move!"

"Mew," Charmander pled, waving his arms about for emphasis. "I think this is a good time to let me down. Like, right _now_."

I held no objections.

The dragon-type was off my grasp, awkwardly waddling his way towards our friend. He got down, inspecting the mechanisms of the trap carefully before nodding his head. "Yeah, this seems doable. Problem is, it will take me a good while before I make any real progress. Think you can cover my tail while I..."

_"Say no more."_

* * *

In the ten minutes Charmander took to loosen the trap for Bulba, Amber and I fought off the rest of the Rocket goons; Squirtle lied waiting at the sidelines for obvious reasons. Wave after wave of Koffings and Arboks were launched at us, all to no avail. I wouldn't say our defence work was perfect, but it did its job. Thanks to the overzealous training placed upon me at the lab, I made quick work with the enemy Pokemon - used Psychic during most confrontations, Psycho Cut and Confusion in others. It was all fluid like the xylem of a plant's root system - Amber was a great strategist which directed me on when and where to use my already waning strength, while I had the smarts of learning how to deploy them efficiently. I still had to carry this whole group over the electric fence, after all.

Unfortunately, in the same ten minutes that it took us to high tail it out of there, Rocket goons were devising a better and smarter strategy of their own as well - one that will ensure that I was clamped down for good.

It was time for a little more human intervention.

So, they surrounded the area which we occupied in a neat little circle which would ensure we wouldn't get out without a fight. We were so preoccupied with the possibility of another Pokemon attack that we failed to account that the Rocket grunts themselves were threats, too. Silly me.

"Alright, got it!" Char cried - much to our relief. "Now get yourself out of there and let's_ go_, Bulba!"

With a sweat-drop, the grass type let out a bellyful breath. "Don't need to tell me twice."

I was so intent on listening in on their brief but jolly exchange that I failed to notice a red dot breathing down on the back of my neck. By the time I turned around, a signature piercing shrill already took off in a burst, set on making sure its contents ate me whole.

That - got my attention. I only caught a glimpse of the weapon, but even from afar, I could still see its metallic features. Dark-infused power bled off the machinery as if it was a wellspring _for _the darkness itself. Any good Psychic could sense it. It was a mechanism which helped them to survive. Unfortunately, it was a trait which only served to make me and the others lock up.

That meant they had a shot at crippling me all the while. Only now, they decided to take it.

Firing, the rocket projectile punched through the air, screaming in its fiery wake. In my panic, I swerved out of the way, dropping both Char and Squirts onto the patchy forest floor in the process. My efforts would be in vain.

It would also be like them to produce all the latest weapons tech. And what do you know; the long list included a homing friggin' missile.

With the force of an Incineroar slam, the explosion consumed my core form whole, swatting and drilling my form into the base of a tree. Safe to say, it hurt more than five endurance training sessions combined. Moaning lowly, I peeled myself from the trunk and fell feet first onto the ground, shaking and whimpering all the while. The buzzing in my ears muted my friends' cries of terror.

Winded, I shook my head regardless - clearing my thoughts to deploy my Psychic abilities. Soon enough, my right hand hoists into position.

Just as I was about to activate them, however, the sharpest stab of pain erupted at the base of my skull, only leaving me to ball over like the weakling I was. Some mix of Scary Face and some other crippling ability.

I seemed to possess the former naturally with the way I look alone. Didn't help here though. As far as my powers were concerned, I was stripped bare. I couldn't bring them to the surface - not even tapping into my reserves helped. All that came out were pink sputters of mist and stale air. Whatever they used on me, it was potent and did its job well.

I was a sitting duck.

Fortunately, I kept my ability to levitate for whatever inconceivable reason.

_"I can't... guys, I can't use my Psychic. That rocket launcher had some sort of Dark energy stored in it, and it... I can't... I can't seem to use Psychic anymore - on either of you. Squirtle..."_

"It's fine," he called back from the ground, still weak from his exertions. "Not like y-you had a choice, either way."

Just as the Water-type finished, however, my ears picked up movement from the bushes. It was consistent - a beat, a rhythm... reverberating the forest floor for all convict-kind to shudder and stand in awe. Damn it. We were being boxed in.

_"They're coming..."_

Just then, the most unbelievable, the most inconceivable words escaped Amber's mouth. Words that drowned out Team Rocket's marching entirely.

"Go."

I blinked once, slowly readjusting my gaze onto her._ "What?"_

"You heard me. Run. Run as far away from us as you can."

_"I am sorry, but that is ridiculous..."_

"Yes, you can... and yes, you_ will_. Us four had a talk when you left for your routine training. We vowed that... if it all went downhill, if things turned sour, it would have to come to this."

_"You don't understa-how, how can you can expect to fight an army? With three handicapped Pokemon? You would stand not stand a chance! Just let me think-"_

"Can't you see we were only being kept around so that you can get stronger? Think about it! Their research on all the clone Pokemon in this branch solely serves to benefit _you_. Your training regiment was because they cherry-picked from a list of training regiments they used on us! Don't you understand? Giovanni only wants _you_. Team Rocket as a whole is centred around _you_. Run away, and his plans to conquer Kanto will be set back by half a decade at the very _least_. Cut the Arbok at its throat."

_"What about-"_

"Mew, this is not just about us any more. This is about the fate of the entire planet. Once they finish their experimenting - and believe me... they will; they will find a way to wrap you around their fingers. We can't allow that to happen. People will get hurt if you stay. People will _die_. Now go! Run! Follow the roads, find this so-called 'city'! We will stall!"

_"But..."_

She gives me one last look of reaffirmation, breathing calmly with a look of determination glinting from her pearly eyes. "Mewtwo? Trust us. We will be fine. Learn to worry about yourself for once."

I wanted to say so badly that I did. That I did excessively. That I did too much for my own good. That I did at the expense of them. It has always been about _my _escape. It's always been about _my _bravery and camaraderie, the only bit of glue which stuck the mosaic together. No, I was vain - my head was shoved far, far up my arse I couldn't recognise myself anymore. Giovanni's character was rubbing off on me too much, more so than Amber. But I unconsciously decided it was better this way.

I _chose _to be self-centred.

And you know what I hate myself for the most?

That, while my mouth was open, my throat still found a way to be parched for words.

But once Amber had set on mind on something, it would take the world's strongest crowbar to convince her otherwise. I could nod uselessly, and slowly. I looked them all over one last time, the same determination gleaming on all their eyes.

"Just... just don't forget us. We love you. Goodbye."

And with that, I ran away.

I ran and ran and ran. From the ferns to the bushes to the roads.

All the while, droplets of tears slowly stained the forest bed blue.

* * *

**PREVIEW**

"Hey there. The name's Ash. Are you hungry? Because you look like crap."

I couldn't have agreed more.


	2. Silver Mirror

To this day, I can scarcely recall how long I ran.

I certainly could have cited my crumbling emotional state as a valid and understandable scapegoat now, but that would be incredibly disingenuous. By all accounts, I was an idiot. I neglected to mention before that the nightly training sessions mainly consisted of critical reading - the art of crafting and understanding complex texts as part of my intellectual development.

You know, I still don't know what they were going for - training a living weapon to think for itself. Then again, indoctrination was something that they hoped would occur with me and the rest... a moot point with Amber around, so her being the unexpected variable probably managed to stump Rocket employees.

...

_Again_ with these tangents! I should get my nephew to hit me over the head with a pan every time I go on one or something. Knowing me, I would probably have one anthill of a lump by the time I am done with this story. It's as if it's ingrained in me; I can't help it.

Anyway, back to why I was an idiot... well, it involved roadsigns, you see. Apparently, I was travelling along one of the main trekking highways travellers used occasionally. To prevent people from getting totally lost, crossroads usually had roadsigns stuck in the middle indicating where they headed. Usually, people would heed them, but not my sorry numbskull.

No, I thought they were tricks set up to deceive me. Deliberate traps Rocket set up to get me back in their clutches. Blame it on living in paranoia for all of my life, having significant trust issues, yadda yadda yadda.

But the point yet remained: I was one dumb_ kitten_.

By all means, I thought. Ignore the signs which clearly pointed to a city close by. That would certainly confuse the crap out of Rocket - what remained of their strategy. They won't be able to catch up to me then.

Stupid me. Even if their patrols would somehow fail to locate my whereabouts, rumours of a purple cat prowling the neighbourhood would certainly get people talking. Nowadays, words mulling along the grapevines was as good as starting any search party.

Then again, all I could see through my eyes at the time was a haze of blue and self-pity. Yeah, I could give myself a little leeway then. No control over my emotions and all. I was, and still am, for a lack of a better word, a pussycat.

Get it?

If only Ash knew just how much I depend on him.

So there I was, passing by the third cross sign along the stretch of the route.

Dawn was fast approaching. The Pidgeys were cawing. Drooped below my eyelids was a weight I could no longer bear to hold.

'Sulphur City' spouted its name clear and plainly on the ocean blue roadsign.

My memories of the night were hazy as my lucidity was all those years ago. But what I did manage to recall was as equally off as it was out of character. The road which sprawled to the city gates stretched onwards underneath my scrutinising gaze.

I didn't know what it was that drew me towards taking those fateful steps. All I knew was that I did.

And, soon enough, off I was dragging my sorry ass towards the general direction of who would eventually become a brother.

A brother in all but blood.

* * *

I'd imagine the first time a toddler sees a skyscraper, he would stand still with his mouth agape... breaths taken away by the hails of awe crashing down on his feeble senses. Marvelling at a structure which seemed to defy all conventions of physics and utter logic.

The crossroads at the end of Sulphur Road was the first time I saw a cluster of 'em. It wouldn't be the last - but the first time my eyes fell on those structures of might - that's something you would need a good whacking on the head to forget.

Too bad what lines its contents couldn't revoke the same feeling. Quite the opposite, really. I am not saying all of them are bad; I am sure there are plenty good to pick in the cornfield. But the rotten ones at the top, the humans which part-own the place? Their kind makes my blood boil. Shouldn't go slapping black-and-white morality anywhere, but these people - they really test one's patience.

...

_As_ I was saying, after a few moments of catching some air, I wandered further along the path to the city, taking cursory glances of these monoliths along the way.

Before I knew it, I led myself to my very first encounter with a regular human being - somebody just trying to live their best life.

I remember it well - the sun had finally quit of its disappearing act and bestowed upon the lands its lazy morning tinge. The treading of the road got progressively more and more noticeable, and when the first bouts of chatter slinked their way by my ears, I knew I had to bugger off somewhere hidden-like before I could venture further.

Coming off the road, I snaked my way through the side bushes, whatever it took to get closer to those voices. Part of me berated myself for my sheer reckless idiocy, but Rocket was hanging at the back of mind like an irritable horsefly. I would rather drop dead than give them the leisure of me complying with Giovanni's wishes.

That, apparently, was all it took for me to override all sense of reason.

Finally, after minutes of silent wading, I was given a clear view of the city entrance. Or rather, the much more pertinent commotion that was unfolding before me.

By the looks of things, this place was meant for Sulphur security detail. There were guardhouses and lines for queueing set up just outside them. And they were _packed_. Whatever this city was doing, they must have been doing something right.

Odd how a town would go so far as to _regulate _visitors from entering. Perhaps they were justified at the time by their antics. Corporate espionage was no laughing matter. Especially when it came to their bottom line.

By the toll booths linked together with metal fences, two humans were bickering - one city guard, and another an outsider. Judging by how loud they were bickering, the visitor was being held up for something big. Big enough to warrant her holding off an entire legion of other tourists waiting impatiently on the very same queue.

"What do you _mean _my phone ain't eligible? It's just a phone! What do you expect it to do, mug some guy blind?"

"Ma'am, as I have stated before, my point still stands. If you want to attend the birthday party, you have to surrender your non-Coalition-manufactured phone to customs. You may collect it on your way out."

"So this is what it's about? Sucking more money off us than you already have?"

"Ma'am, you are free to voice whatever opinions you have later. However, company policy states the daily visitor is only permitted to hold on their person a-"

"You know what? Fine. Fine! Take it! Take my Pokedex while you are at it! Growing too many grey hairs for this shit." With that, she shoved her bag of electronics into the guard's chest and stormed her way past him, gusts of wind blowing against the guard's hair. The crowd unwarily leaned to the side to see the grisly conclusion unfold.

Despite the incident, I reckoned he decided, since she had met all what clearance required of her, she _should_ be free to go. Out of sight, out of mind - there were hundreds more to attend to.

Seemed that the other guards were preoccupied with their antics with other outsiders, too.

Jackpot.

So they probably wouldn't notice a shimmer of light with a curiously long tail at its end floating over and past the fences, then.

And me? I take those chances. This strategy was what had gotten me here so far.

* * *

Nothing could properly prepare me to the onslaught of sensory overload this place would bear down on me.

Noise, lights, people, more LIGHTS, _everything_ was coming from _every direction_. I shut all manners of hearing senses down, and some still manage to slip through my limp ears.

Moving billboards dot the skyline of skyscrapers and other such structures - neon so bright you'd flinch just taking a glance at them. Buildings towered over the sky like an overbearing parent, blotching the sun with faceless windows and soulless steel. The blaring of cars echoes throughout the districts, each commuter trying their best not to cause further disruption to their day. A haze of carbon monoxide invaded my nose - so thick, in fact, not even a swat of the hand would do to rid of it.

The worst part, however, was the people.

It was a sea of faces and life forces - Pokemon and humans alike - all endeavouring through the streets with different ambitions, each leading their own lives, be it for greatness or ruin. I couldn't comprehend having to soak in all those individuals at once. I have been so sheltered in my little bubble of life the very notion of the unknown serves to simply render me paralysed.

In other words, a typical city atmosphere and soundscape.

I learnt to simply mind my own business later on, but I was still a virgin to chaos at the time. Could not handle it. Could not _digest _it.

As I waded through the throes of people and commuters going up and down the streets, the only thing that kept my feet on the ground - the only thing that prevented me from getting utterly lost and overwhelmed - was the smell of food.

I realised all too late into my trip I needed to stock up on some resources. My stomach was getting grumpier by the second.

So, I decided, the best way for me to slip past the crowd was to remain invisible while hovering over the traffic. No way was I going to risk showing my form, even if it did strain on my mind all too much.

Eventually, my travels led me to a building just as tall as the rest, and... well, even at the time I thought it was too much for a hotel.

Pristine looking structure with a tinge of antique decor glistening at its sides. An illusion of the past and an invitation for the exotic unknowns. On the front entrance, a neon sign blinked the words plainly: 'Casablanca Lodgings'.

Quickly spotting a somewhat empty revolving door, I leapt into action and entered, careful not to spark any suspicion among its occupants.

Inside was exactly as you'd expect from the outside. Flash. Eloquent. Subdued, yet popping.

I could take the time to admire the work had gone into the carpeting and landscaping, but hunger was my chief priority to quench. Luckily, they had set up signs that sent me packing. The kitchen.

Of course, I failed to see that it said 'Staff Only' just below it.

* * *

It was as if the kitchen was doused with a most diverse palette of colours, all painted courtesy of Ho-oh herself.

There was this green liquid thing on the left table-counter - 'Thai curry' if the label below the bowl was correct. Apparently, the crispy golden stuffs on the side were called 'grilled hash browns'. Then there was white creamy stuff in a container of sorts - 'ice cream'.

Ah, ice cream. We would become well-known acquaintances in the future.

The one thing that stood out from the rest, however, was something I had never seen before. They looked like bricks, but strikingly brown.

...

Clearly, I exemplify the paragon of word-smithing.

I was a bit apprehensive to the idea at first, chucking something so foreign down my throat. The rich yet homely smell convinced me otherwise. So, I drifted my way down there to pick up a bite. I munched. Then munched. Then munched again. And all the while the sweetest, most sensational taste eclipsed my tastebuds. I couldn't believe it. They were soaring!

I quickly seized hold of another one and gobbled that up too. I was beside myself on my fourth when-

"Glad at least somebody is enjoying my brownies. Even using a Psychic-type to cloak yourself invisible to get yourself inside! Brilliant. Should work on your sense of patience, however. Floating half-eaten brownies tend to raise alarm bells, no?"

My hair stood as straight as a conscript at boot camp.

My head whipped to my right only to see a woman wearing a chef's hat, hands holding her hips... and a scorching expression cocked and loaded on her face.

"Mind coming into this here pantry to my left? I won't hurt you or anything, I just want to have a chat. And don't bother trying to run. I locked the backdoor."

I gulped. This will end one way or another. And either of those cases, I don't see myself coming out alive.

* * *

The metal door behind us shut. The gears twisted and locked. Little brightness seeped through the pantry window.

Checking double to make nobody would hear my impending homicide, she finally stood straight from the door, and turned to face me. Now I finally understood what it feels like to as cornered as a Rattata. It's the eyes. The eyes. Like how a predator would eye rape his prey.

"So, introductions. The name is Delia. Delia Ketchum. I usually work the diner at Pallet Town, but the proprietors here thought I'd make a good fit after tasting my sweets. So it's a business trip, albeit a temporary one." A frown manifested. "Now, before my business trip is, too, temporarily soured, could you kindly reveal yourselves and explain just why the hell are you are stealing food from my palette?"

Not knowing how to react, I simply complied.

You know, I have still yet to see somebody do a 180 in expression once I revealed my battered form to her as quickly as she did.

It was right then and there where I knew I was in good hands.

* * *

**Sorry for the long wait, boss. Not much to say except screw Maths Methods. That's all. **

**Thank you for coming to my TED Talk. Also if some could review and put their thoughts in, that'd be much appreciated. **


	3. Polyethylene

I may or may not have been entirely honest with my past when I told Ma about it. The best lie was built on the foundations of truth, after all.

She was practically yanking the words out of my throat the moment I unveiled my true form to her, so I needed to think fast.

Needless to say, I stubbornly omitted some key facts about myself which certainly strained on our relationship in the future - nothing too serious like a relationship fallout or something, just some miscommunication. Regardless, the stuff I spouted were, more or less, faithful to canon. Vague mentions of Rocket and my friends; most of it about what and how I felt & experienced during my... strategic conditioning. That's a phrase.

During my drawn-out monologue, I took some liberties to go into some of the more graphic detail about the daily goings-on at Rocket Laboratories.

I haven't mentioned what happened in the Loyalty tests, have I? How I had to kill a family Pichus they kept locked up on the grounds that by not doing it I'd risk killing my friends?

Fun times.

Knowing they weren't going to risk their science experiments just for the Pichu, I stood my ground.

I could never walk the same way after that.

Partly one of the main reasons I always levitate to where I wanted to go. To avoid a reminder - a statement that my life was completely and utterly within their grasps. Guessed the Torture Chamber had taken my tendons and nerves for the ride of their lives.

Anyway, getting off track. I may have manipulated my story here and there... mainly where it all happened. Made cooky shit about how I was the product of a scientist's species creation fetish deep within the Underground, whatever that means.

The face Delia made was great.

'Course, it was still under the guise that I had escaped from the sleazier parts of society, not Rocket. To be truthful, I think I was really pushing it as far as fabricated stories go, but I guess the rugged state of my body's condition got her emotions to stand up and perform a standing ovation to what was otherwise complete dogshit.

The following paragraphs account the events following the hostage-style meeting which took place in the Casablanca. It's true - what people say about fate. That one meets his destiny often in the road he takes to avoid it.

* * *

The speed at which Delia assigned her pantry assistants to their workstations in her absence was, to put it lightly, disturbing. It has something to do with her voice, I can guarantee you that much. Something about it being admonishing yet encouraging gave them the one-two punch to the gut they needed, I think.

You don't get that in a lot of people these days - the confidence bit. Rarely do we get to truly live by our own terms; society has been constructed in such a way that the slightest thing out of the ordinary would be met with the utmost admonishment and prejudice.

We scared people into thinking that thinking is wrong. So people followed. And people obeyed. No wonder then, that when the slightest incle of responsibility is placed upon the majority, we crumble an abstract weight we are only subconsciously aware of.

But who could care about the words spouted by an unstable science experiment? Maybe this worldview was a side effect of my egotistic and pathetic view of life.

Maybe that's talk coming from a person who embodies every aspect and flaw of society I just listed.

So when she directed her staff with such manner of confidence and comfortableness I just knew I needed to fall in her sights very quickly - cos I knew I had to have a fallback when I do things completely the opposite way to how she would have preferred to have done it.

Then there's the fact she is a genuinely good person. It was the first time I had seen someone - a human - care for people simply because they felt it was the right thing to do. She would be the first among many.

This is just the appetiser.

To not appear entirely inconspicuous, I walked by her side at all times as we navigated the hotel hallways so that nobody would see the floating invisible entity which held her hand under lock and key. It also served as a way to put me on a leash.

She insisted, no, _demanded_ that she took me by the hand - in case I get any funny ideas about 'escaping'. Lady, I know next to nothing about the outside world, and you expect me to run from the only person who has been openly displaying that she's not out to get me?

Oh. Right. Fabricated backstory and past. Ah. Probably should have spilt the beans when we first talked, then.

As we walked our way to her "suite", I witnessed some of the many first experiences I would have in regard to a normal and non-homicidal social climate - the way a proper and realistic version of society should work - a la, anything but the illegal shadow organisations.

Everybody still walked around with an air of pride, but I never felt any sort of maliciousness from either party. Just people... trying to live their best lives without it being at the expense of others. I had always assumed people outside would be a mirror-to-mirror copy of those scientists at Rocket Labs. Wake up call, indeed.

After what seemed like moments, we stood facing a door after passing various others just like it; a sign above the peephole read 'Earheart No. 35'. Took a bit of fumbling around with the purse stashed inside her bag, but she eventually brandished the keycard.

With a swipe, it opened to one of the most lavish accommodations that I have ever seen. Cove lighting lined the edges of the ceiling, a soft amber hue stood in contrast to evening sunlight calmly seeping through sliding windows. Matted carpeting graced the presence of our feet and a bunch of other deco made the room appear like it belonged inside a palace.

The most immediate bodily sensation which was excited, however, were sounds coming from a flat-screen TV hung sturdily on the wall. The exact chatter the TV relinquished slowly developed into clarity the further we ventured in.

We came to a stop once we reached what appeared to be a bedroom of sorts. Occupying most of the space were two Queen-sized beds. What interested me the most, however, was the kid lying on his back on the right one, staring intently ahead at an LED screen watching some sort of fighting program.

A young boy who looked my age whose hair looked like it had never seen a day of washing up whipped his head around, facing us; a jovial smile immediately materialised at the sight of his mother. "You are back! Early! I thought you said tonight would be much longer this time around."

"Well, I am still supposed to be there if that's what you are thinking."

"Won't you get in trouble?"

"They make an exception for emergencies. I think this counts as one."

He tilted his head slightly, to Delia's amusement. "Huh? What are you talking about?"

"Long story short, I met someone who I think you'd make lovely friends with." My hands fidgeted about in her grip, but she tightened her hold in an effort to keep me afloat through the throes and waves of anxiety. "But you have to promise me that you won't freak out once you see him, alright? He's... special."

Arceus, don't _I _feel patronised.

At that, his intrigue visibly peaked - sitting straight in an attempt to get a glimpse of the mystery Pokemon floating beside her. Unfortunately for him, invisibility was something I made sure was kept at a constant when meeting with people I don't know. Unlucky, buckaroo. "Is he another kid? Nobody wants to make friends with me here."

With a lick of her lips, she sighed. "About your age, yeah."

It just about took all his willpower not to bounce about the bed like a bouncing castle right here and there. "That's so cool! When can I see him?"

"About now. But," her hand then guided mine forward, motioning her head towards my general direction, "just a fair warning. He's lived a very rough life in the streets, so don't be too harsh on him if he locks up during a conversation. Don't mock him if he does anything rude; he may not even _know_ he had done anything rude. Trust is very valuable to those who live in areas absent of it." Youch, Delia.

"Where he came from doesn't matter to me. All that matters is whether he is good at heart."

"I expected a response no less than that, Ash." She then breathed possibly the world's longest sigh, bouncing herself up and down in anticipation - loose feet somehow yet to part from the floor. "Alright. Here goes. Come on out, Mewtwo."

In the most stable manner I could, I floated my way in front of her, breathing in a deep gust of air myself. We were gunning on the assumption that this Ash wouldn't simply drill past us and start screaming bloody murder in the hallways. If that happens, well. I think you can make that out for yourself, huh?

My invisibility was soon awkwardly shed - could have been less shaky, but regardless, my conditioned abilities did their job.

There are I was. In the flesh, in all my indigo-coloured glory. I was a sight to behold indeed. Ashton widened his eyes like saucers.

Seconds passed by, neither party moving a muscle. Soon enough, his lips started to unfold.

It was a simple word the boy muttered, but it was all I needed to hear - to know that my fears were baseless at best. "Awesome."

"Go on, then. Say hi."

_"H... Hi," _the idiot parroted like a little chinky.

Ash appeared to ignore my evidently stunted development of intelligence. If anything, he was giddier than ever. Classic Ash. "You never told me he's a Pokemon! He can even speak! In English! ENGLISH!"

She shook her head. "Ash, what did I tell you about piping down? You are going to scare him with your voice alone, at this rate."

"So sorry mommy," he sheepishly replied. "He's just... he's just a talking..."

"I think he knows, honey. Mewtwo doesn't need reminding."

"Al... alright."

Satisfied with her handiwork, she rotated her attention to me, turning her head. "Now, I am sure you are still very hungry from your escape from those gangsters. As soon as I am back in the kitchen, I will order my assistants to whip you up something - for the both of you. I haven't forgotten you, Ash. Not yet, anyway."

As soon as she finished her declaration, the phone in her right pocket vibrated - to which she quickly attended to silencing it with a sharp and mannered response.

"I'd love to stay the evening to get to know you more, Mew, but I just had a call-in. If I am not there for QA, the director will have my head on a pike for sure. I will be right back after the evening shift, I promise. Until then, take care! Oh, and please leave some on the plate for Mewtwo to share, Ash. I don't want a repeat of last Thanksgiving."

"Oh, come on! That was a year ago!"

"Love you too, Ashton."

She left the hallway in a trail of dust soon after - just as suddenly as she answered the call. The door violently shut in her wake.

We could only blink at the door's general direction. Slowly, steadily, we shifted our gazes and turned our attention towards each other. We were both well aware either of us was reluctant to make the first move.

Ash being Ash, he finally chose to step up to an admittedly gargantuan task.

To keep my emotionally unstable ass on the ground.

"So you want to watch the League with me?"

* * *

_"What are they fighting for?"_

"To prove which one of them is the strongest."

_"Can't they just, you know, have somebody else train them in a gymnasium or something?"_

"It doesn't work like that. To them, at least. Some Pokemon prefer to do it on the side, for sure, but 'Mons usually prefer to battle with someone else. That way, they can truly put their skill to the test - something along those lines."

_"That doesn't look at all like something anybody would enjoy, getting all bruised up like that."_

"You'd be surprised."

_"That's..."_

"Wrong? Who are we to say whether they have the right to enjoy it or not? If that's what they prefer, then it's only fair if we let them - they don't, they can tap out. Of course, some trainers are slightly... no, there _are_ worse than others - we handle them by having their licenses revoked near immediately if some evidence is sent to the Board. It's not us who are fighting their battles, after all. It's the least we can do." Another sack of Middle Eastern Samosa was soon collected from his construction crane of a hand and promptly placed into the junkyard that was his mouth. No wonder a few bits of potato manage to dribble on the bedsheets. I tried my best not to do likewise, but a fried dish on a lazy evening was just asking for it. Especially when there's TV involved.

_"Could you be any messier? You are gonna give your mum a heart attack."_

"That's why I dispose of the evidence." Ash then picked up the fallen bits and stuffed them into his mouth like they are some sort of chew toy, if only for emphasis. "Fool-proof."

_"I would have been given a good walloping if Gio-... my trainer saw me_ attempting _to pick up good food_."

"Five-second rule. All boys are legally required to follow it. No exceptions."

_"But it's been more than five-"  
_

"Did I stutter?"

_"But... come on!"_

"The five-second rule is not a rule. It's a state of mind."

_"That doesn't make sense and you know it."_

"Does it really?"

_"Oh for..." _My arms were thrown up on principle._ "I am done. I don't want to deal with you anymore."_

At that, Ash threw at me the world's shittiest eating grin. "Thus my dominance over the pack... was secured."

Though it appeared childish enough, little did we know the little bond we created between us from that simple piece of banter. Nor did we know of the commitment we would make later in regards to reaching my full potential.

The League sowed for us a seed in the arid soil.


	4. Aluminium Foil

_"Ash?"_ I piped up, the second of the quarter-final matches close to wrapping up and making way for the third fixture tonight. _"Can I tell you a secret?"_

As expected, his eyes were still intricately weaved by superglue on the LED screen. "What's up?"

A breath I have been holding for entirely too long, released in a sputter of stutter and rutter. _"I lied to your mom when I told her about where I came from."_

The glance I have been dreading since I have decided on telling... and it never came. _"I am sorry?"_

I gulped. A big one, this time. _"I didn't come from the streets. Certainly not from the Underground. It probably_ does _exist, but I am not from there as far as I know._" A long, long sigh weighed in. _"I didn't come from any of that. But... I was being honest about the fugitive part."_

For some godforsaken reason, he still kept his eyes glued on the TV. "Where from?"

_"I... Uh..."_ I quickly shook myself out of that stupor so as to not make the situation awkward any further._ "It was Rocket. I... I escaped from Team Rocket."_

There it was. The bombshell that was held in the bomb plane cockpit for entirely too long. As the seconds go by, it may only just occur to me just how much he didn't seem to emote in disgust and distrust at the reveal. If anything, it was... disappointment? Not in the bad sort of way, if I don't mind butchering the English language a bit.

He then subsequently went on to say the most shocking words I have heard come out of a nine-year-old thus far in all my years as an escapee,

"If you think I'd be bothered in the slightest, you are very wrong."

Just as unexpectedly, he chuckled a bit, seemingly re-evaluating the words that were about to leave his gob on the spot.

"So what you escaped from Rocket? They come after us, then my left hand will be holding a trusty Pokeball and my right will be free space for all sorts of rude gestures."

_"So..."_ I sent him a quizzical stare; mouth half agape. _"You are not... mad at me?"_

He turned his head around to face me this time. "And why would I be, exactly?"

_"Well, I stepped over all sorts of lines. Boundaries nobody should cross. If they find out I was living with you, you could get _hurt_."_

"Well, you stepped over none of mine, so lucky you," he retorted, seemingly annoyed at my persistence at putting myself in a bad light. "Look, you knocked on the doorsteps of people who have some level of basic decency, alright? Helping people in need is our kind of thing. You are no different. So what if it's a bit high stakes? What's life without them, right?"

With that said, he placed his hand on my shoulder, bobbing me up and down to free me of the stiffness locking my movement up like handcuffs.

"Nothing's gonna happen to you, alright? Not on my watch."

Before I knew it, the conversation ended as quickly as it began. All the while, an assured smile tucked around the corners of my cheek, and, for once in my life, the weight of acceptance was alleviated from my shoulders a little.

_"Ash?"_

"Yup?"

_"Thank you. For everything."_

His lips drew a sly smirk. "Wait for morning to come and tell it to me then."

* * *

That casting couch Ash offered me gave this happy Psychic-type the best sleep I have ever had from the moment I had taken his first breath.

Never had the prying eyes of those Rocket scientists escape my mine as I bid my eyelids shut; always wary of an impending moment where they prick and prod at me to elicit some sort of reaction. If I hazarded a guess, I would say they were testing to see just how far I would tolerate their antics and whether or not I felt that I was completely and utterly under their control.

It's sick... but understandably necessary. You pour millions upon millions of your capital into an asset and all you get from your end is the equivalent of bad debt? One that is bad in every sense of the word plus more? Not the most exciting nor desirable business expenditure.

Even then, they went about protecting their assets all wrong. I never understood this about Team Rocket; they go out of their way to make the Rocket Laboratories™ experience as unfathomably uncomfortable as possible and they wonder why their Pokemon inevitably revolt against them?

This just solidifies my headcanon that what Giovanni was _really_ indulging in was to exercise his frustrations flared by the bullying he received in the locker room when he was but a wee babe. Maybe the stacks of paper dosh he piled on top of his science division were really there to compensate for something else, eh?

What all my overly long musings ultimately boil down to was the simple fact that this couch was the single most comfortable thing I have ever had the pleasuring of sleeping on in my entire life. I wouldn't mind being a victim of polio if this was the thing I would rest my case of the cripples in the ole iron lung for the rest of my life.

From my entirely too restraining position, my head tilted to the side, glancing at Ash - knocked out on the queen bed closest to the couches. He remained adamant earlier about 'lights out' being at 10 o'clock, otherwise his mom will pull the Glock she kept hidden in her handbag and shoot the living daylights out of him. Or something along those lines. We were so engrossed with by the League playoffs that night we hadn't taken a good look at the 24-hour clock on the nightstand.

The facial expression he pulled off was almost comical. _'Quick! Brush your teeth, drink water then head for the covers! Now!'_

Sighing, I flashed a brief smile at no audience other than myself, staring musingly back at the ceiling.

I could get used to this.

These bubbly emotions stirring within me was not the reason which kept me up, however. It's surprisingly hard to forget about somebody you loved which tell you to forget about them in turn. No matter where I turn, I still see her face hanging around the edges of my periphery vision. Always watching. Always scrutinising. It was driving me mad.

It was all my fault that they had to deliver the ultimatum in the first place. If I hadn't been so complacent, I could have braved that Dark-type missile. Could have gotten the lot of us out. No more sleepless nights or countless hours of torture. No more Giovanni. No more suffering.

Any Psychic could have taken my place and still had gotten them out.

Amber, for once in her life, was wrong.

I was, by all accounts, a coward.

I was weak.

If I hadn't restrained myself against those ability trainers and doing everything in my power to avoid training, I would have been able to withstand the strain of Psychic and carried all of us over that barbed wire fence thrice over.

The delightful origin of these food-for-thoughts came from the place I least expected them to intrude from. The Pokemon League. A tournament I was sure I would despise based on the foundational fact it involved the pitting of one Pokemon against another in a battle to see who would win.

The trainer part was what got me. My disdain for the concept of them should be self-explanatory. I was only exposed to one side of a two-sided coin, and for the most part, I already made it out for myself I didn't like what I saw.

In hindsight, it was all narrow thinking.

Never in my mind have I ever pondered the possibility of there being _good _trainers in the world. People who would do everything in their power to make sure their Pokemon are kept safe from harm's way. People who would not stop for a second to intervene if their Pokemon were attacked. People who would do not use Pokemon as commodities and items they own, but rather as equals - friends, partners. I have half a mind to say lovers, but I'd prefer it if I tackled the topic later?

It was all a very foreign concept. In turn, it was made all the more frightening.

During that fateful night with Ashton, I had born witness to many a battle between competing Trainers, all vying to make themselves recognised in the Trainer circuits. The power these Pokemon displayed was as hypnotic as the wailing of sea sirens, and when the fights were over, I couldn't help but ogle and yearn to reach the same level of competency as these people demonstrated.

If I could somehow reach their peaks - perhaps even surpass them - I may be able to... to get my friends out of those Labs. Save them. Repay my debts.

At that point in my life, my only goal was to do the same what they did for me. It was not the most unselfish of endpoints, but hell was it important to me all the same.

As the footsteps of dreamland came creeping by in my whirlwind of thoughts, the only thoughts which crossed my mind were Amber, Bulb, Charred, Squirts. And a certain boy snoring away off to the sides, oblivious to just how much shit we would get ourselves into later. I want to say the good kind, but that'd be downplaying the extent to which our accomplishments affected the world.

It came to a point where the pseudo-legendaries in his team would stand toe-to-toe with the actual legendaries he had taken in and nurtured.

Fun times abound.

* * *

The body clock that Rocket determined that was best suited for me meant that I would always wake up at 5 am, no questions asked. Lest I be the victim of concentration-based water hosing by Rocket staff. Don't think I need to explain how I was conditioned rather quickly under their antics.

Seriously though; how did they expect that their assets would obey them unquestioningly again? By force? Intimidation? Goodness, _I _could have come up with a better plan. The weakness of not having a board of directors/advisors pitching in their own ideas I suppose. Here's advice to all future dictators, if the people you are dictating love you under means not directly linked to harm, you would, more than likely, have bred an army of soldiers willing to do anything for you, easy!

Anyway, what was I saying?

Ah, yes.

Berating the ever-living expletive word out of management. Their science division may be brainy in their knowledge of the body and soul and universe and all of it but by _Arceus_ do their street smarts leave much to be desired.

Actually, funny how I mentioned street smarts - especially considering what happened during the events following the sunrise in the City of Boards (a slang term for Sulphur City - board members, get it?). Don't worry, we will get to that bit.

Right after I set the scene concerning my circumstances with Ash leading up to it.

Unknowingly committing the first world equivalent of a war crime (waking someone up without their explicit consent prior) upon Ash, I was all but forced to commit to the proposal he made the night before - to venture out into the wilderness and seek out battling trainers. Apparently, if I wanted a taste of how a battle truly conducts itself, I need to be there in person. Of course, I seemed Ash would be in the know about these kinds of things, so I complied. Wouldn't want to get my only other friend in the outside world to resent me, now.

While I am not of the opinion that I necessarily need to be there to experience it, it did score us a very important first meeting we would get into later.

After obtaining quiet permission from an exhausted Mom to leave, we headed out in search of a local barista as Ash suggested, his gear in hand and my invisibility donned. Obviously, Casablanca wielding a status as being the most exclusive hotel in the region meant that it wouldn't include such a joint. We would have to search elsewhere.

No sooner than fifteen minutes later did we stand facing the revolving doors, before venturing out and breathing in the chilly air of a new dawn. I admit - I lagged and ambled behind Ash a bit. But you have to keep in mind that this is the second time I lumbered in the outside world. Give me a moment for pity's sake. I have had already a bellyful of staying indoors, the six dimensions of a boxed prison bearing down on me - made me feel exhausted and defeated in a way no amount of physical exertion could. No way would I pass up a moment of reprieve.

A gentle wind trailed along my skin as my eyes wandered my general vicinity. The first instances of traffic hour were starting to form as the wafts of flowers invaded my nostrils senseless. Business hours were steadily being clocked in if the lights coming on in the skyscrapers gave any sort of indication. The cars that _were _on the streets were not enough to drown the sounds of Pidgeys and Wingulls singing their hearts out in a bout of hopeful romanticism. The cold front which passed by earlier in the night must have taken the smelling of exhaust along with it. I was not in any way complaining.

Tinges of indigo and khaki clumsily coated the sky, clouds rolling past as the wind continued their march further inland. Overall, not bad an atmosphere for one so deep into a metropolis.

...While elsewhere in the medium of existence known as the Earth, Ash was busy scouting out for any sign of a coffee shop nearby in my place. To this day, I still feel bad for leaving him without a clue. My sense of smell was stronger than most. A whiff would have done it for me.

"Ugh," huffed Ash. Dust lifted from the floor as Ash irritably scalded the surface of the sidewalk. "Figures there'd be none here. Pallet Town has tons; guess they thought coffee shops would be too lower-middle-class for them. See who has the last laugh after the next societal uprising, huh? HUH?"

I was too hung up on his earlier statement to register his suggestion. _"Wha...?"_

"Nevermind. You wouldn't get it." A stifled chuckle erupted from his mouth. "Actually, come time Mom drinks more than five glasses of wine again and you'd suddenly an honourary Bachelors degree in Political Science and Economics. 'It won't get political', she said at Thanksgiving dinner. It got political."

It was not until we were halfway back to the hotel did we find a back alley which cut through downtown. Not looking to stare at the gift horse to another street abundant with stalls of all kinds any further, we took the bait.

Unfortunately, our brains hadn't stopped relapsing until we were quarter our way through too late. No one in their right mind would ever take the back streets of a friggin' _city_. The region's non-existent police force made sure that advice still holds true to this day.

"Aww crap, what was I thinking? We fit the part of helpless children way too well... just asking to get mugged." He shrugged. "At least we are not near a church."

An indignant chuff._ "I never told you I was a child."_

"Not gonna lie, your lack of knowledge surrounding the socio-economic state of our region gave it away fairly quickly."

_"That... that says nothing about my age. By your logic, you should be a drooling caveman since we are around the same age bracket."_

"Well, it's been well known that there _are _exceptions to the rule-"

_"Oh, I don't want to hear it!"_

"I-"

A shattering crash I could only compare to thunder fracturing the ground surged through the alleyway, sending our lollygagging to a screeching halt. Loud to the point it drove us to slam into our ears to drown out the noise. We barely had enough time to recover before the same screech tore through our eardrums senseless.

Bracing ourselves for another blast, our focus could _just _make the sounds a bit more coherent. It barely helped Ash, if at all, but having the ears of a species which has close relations to a certain domesticated predator gave me the leverage I needed to pick out soundwaves easier than any human can. So I listened intently.

It... it sounded _unnatural _almost, like harshly bashing against an object made of steel. However, the more time it took for the broth to settle, the less it sounded like something inanimate...

My eyelids shot up.

Ashton took notice, whipping his head to face me.

I knew precisely what it was - never had I been so sure in my life.

_"Ash, we need to help it."_

"What's going on?"

_"Somebody's being beaten. A Pokemon. And by the sounds of it... to death."_


	5. Esterfication

Dank, groggy, trashy. Lined on the bricks which enclose this urban slice of hell were stained with decay so brunt the colours associated with it were showing up in full force. There was no sense in making light of the situation, nor will it do to deny it; there was no justice in rejecting simple truths. The alley which the sounds stumbled scratchily from was a shithole in every sense of the word.

I don't want to base assumptions on anything - as everything new and unfamiliar should be treated, really - but it's hard not to look at the whole thing and assume that it would seem to attract certain kinds of folks.

On one hand, you have the Rats - the by-products of a neo-liberalist society that has determined they were much too beyond them to see Rats as another one of them. Thrown away like how one would throw away their garbage, trying to carve out for feeble food scraps on the floor which have already decayed long ago. Forgotten. Useless. Used.

On the other, those whose hearts reflect their surroundings in a manner no normal colour can. Misery often loves company. And in this environment, attitude is king. After all, your life hangs on the balance should you choose not to share similar outlooks of life to those closest to you. To spread kindness is to spread hope. And hope, scarce as it is, is not worth the heartbreak after the 'high' - the moment they realise they will never have happiness for the remainder of their days.

While Rocket Laboratories and those which inhabit it may share the same moral compasses, the environment differs in that that kind of grit still hides underneath a veneer of formality, order, honour and rules. There was always a clear chain of command and people to reinforce it. In these streets, you would have to turn over many nooks and crannies to catch slight _glimpses _of the morally-aligned. For those who do often don't live long enough for the outsiders to see them. In other words, these roads were chaos personified.

Both these types have one correlation, however. Society and those which dictate it were their sole makers.

Ash knew all about these types of places, he told me. Ma apparently had a hand in educating him what to do if he inexplicably found himself in one. Chief priority was to not show weakness of any sort. Rich, poor, does not matter. They catch a glimpse of you acting all chump and submissive for a second, you'd better run for the high hills. Your kind - the idealistic kind - they were not welcome there.

These people would be more than happy to expel their sorrow and misery onto folks like you like parasites. For who else would be there to hear their cries for help in a society absent of it?

I reckon Zekrom would feel rather sore had he known this place existed.

The further we ventured into the alley, the more clearly audible were the words which accompanied the howling wind. For all the praise and admiration bestowed upon Ash for his innate ability to understand Pokemon, he will never truly understand - in a concrete manner, at least - what they were trying to convey to him in their _own_ language. Didn't help that, to the naked human ear, the words always consisted of some form of variation regarding the name of their species.

I could only make out a few words here and there with what little information was being imparted. The Pokemon was probably too busy screaming bloody murder for it to string together lucid and recognisable sentences. Only a few words made pass the impenetrable barrier that is provoked thought.

The closer we got to the source, the more my ears stretched to its apex to accommodate further space for soundwaves to resonate.

Something... it was something about a 'bet', which I naturally assumed it lost... soon subsequently followed by promises from the victim to 'train harder'. Judging by the blood-curdling screams which came after, I'd say whatever debt end the collector had come to tie up, they hadn't been satisfied enough by its vows and pleas to appease whatever agenda the aggravator possessed.

Soon enough, we found ourselves at a crossroads in the middle of our footpath. Taking quick glances left and right, the two lanes seemed to stretch toward dead ends. The smell managed to convince me this place was only ever meant for garbage collecting.

Trouble is, the city council trash people only came by biweekly. Last time I checked, surveillance of the place would have a sizable gap in the time before and after officials would come again. It was, essentially, free real estate six days of the week.

Imagine our lack of surprise once we stumbled upon what we stumbled upon.

Lain in the middle of the alleyway were two shadowy silhouettes, embroidered by neon lights descending from the skyscrapers that gazed harshly upon them. One, a human, stood tall holding some sort of metal device, the other shakily holding something in front of its figure, cowering in fear. Couldn't quite make out what kind of creature the receiver was, but it would be revealed to us soon enough.

Steeling in resolve, I heard even more nonsense about shifting blame and losing half of one's life savings. The former then smashed his finger on the device; elicited the receiver to shake convulsively as it whimpered before stopping at the first parting from the mechanism. It looked like a cross between two rocket launchers melded together and a face of constant grumpiness. Yeah, that's a good way to describe a Metang, no?

However, this one was banged up in all sorts of places. I don't know exactly _how _a Steel-type manages to look malnourished, but this one pulled off the appearance of one flawlessly.

Again, didn't take an Alakazam to realise what was happening.

Unfortunately, I hadn't yet been exposed to Ash Ketchum's heroics yet to know the impending disaster which would ensue. Impressive for one at such a young age to possess a strict moral compass for sure, but there had to be a clash with the child's lack of emotional intelligence at some stage. In certain parent circles, they referred to the phenomenon as The Hothead Effect.

And his hotheadedness would come to grate on me very quickly.

So, without due warning nor prior consultation with me to see whether or not I could take the attacker on, he charged forward with a passion few manage to match in their entire lifetimes.

"YOU! STOP! Get off him!"

Some days, I wished that day got a good walloping for all the countless reckless actions he pulled off. If in a scenario he didn't have a touting Pokemon by his side to back him up, what then? I certainly would pity to the cleanup crew who would have to scrape his pummeled corpse off the floor.

As one would imagine, the squeaky voice box of a child would draw attention pretty quickly in an environment such as this.

No surprises when the attacker whipped his head at him as quick as a fly not a moment later. "The fu...? The hell is a kid-"

"Doesn't matter. You don't lay your hands off him, and I will run to the Jennys screaming."

"Sulphur security is a private entity, idiot. And you think my gang's not in their pockets? How do you think we got away with so much shit without ever being caught?"

"There are Jennys outside this city, you nitwit."

"Won't matter in a moment, though." At that point, I could _feel _the sudden drop of bravado - washed away from his pale face as the man soon turned to face the Metang. While it seemed to be an unhealthy trainer-Pokemon relationship, a Pokemon relationship it remained. Methinks Ash walked into an inescapable situation. Metang were no joke in the scenario where their trainers were out for blood. "Looks like today's your lucky day, screwdriver. Do as I say and you just _might _be forgiven for your incompetence in the Ring."

Ash the Numpty took generous strides backwards. "Uh... Mewtwo?"

To the man, his voice may as well be white noise. "Knock him out, but don't kill him. Might add to some of our merchandise. Then I can get the good stuff early..."

"Help?"

I was more than willing to oblige, even if it cost my identity. But the situation turned on its head in the least likely way I expected it to go.

It all started when the Metang had decided to stay put. It didn't budge - failed to move a single centimetre.

"Don't make me press the button again, dipshit."

Not a sound. Not even a flinch. The Mon only blankly stared at the boy; contemplating eyes sizing him up and down. The man soon found himself being eyed back by the Metang, claws clenched. It breathed a chilly sigh - the tirade of pain secured to come after almost accepted. _"I am done listening to you. You imprison me, sure, but you do not control me. Suck din."_

"I-it does not have to b-b-b-b-be this way. I am getting the shakes, man - goddamnit! I need it, now!"

_"I am not maiming a kid just to feed your addiction, Marcus."_

"The hell did you just say to me? Why, I..."

_"I said, I - URGH-...!" _

And, in one fell swoop, the finger that hovered over the device slammed straight down.

"Wrong answer."

Ash near-immediately flinched at the sparks maniacally flying about in the enclosed space, turning to me frantically; his eyes, pleading. "Mew, please!"

My best friend needn't worry, however. I was already on top of it. Not another Pokemon will needlessly suffer under my account.

_"Psychic."_

* * *

"I knew I had my reservations about Sulphur, but by the asscracks of Groudon, I didn't expect it to be _this _bad. I thought the Jennys would on top of this."

A lavish Pokemon centre in a metropolis as renown and expansive as Sulphur was not a commodity - it was an expectation. It delivered on what all might come to expect on all accounts. In addition to providing self-service Pokeball healing stations and obligatory PokeMarts to the side, it served as a shopping complex of sorts, specialising in all but one area: Pokemon Training. Everything from IV Stones to X Attacks was acquirable in the various marts scattered throughout its multifloored facilities.

It was made all the more convenient that community-centred administrative services were being operated and run all in one place.

Now, since everything in the city was considered private property, foreign agents such as regional governments were not given free rein on having a say of how the place is run. A Libertarian's wet dream.

Luckily, stated in the deal the government and the Coalition signed to make this weird relationship happen, certain terms and conditions and rules were set place to make sure they couldn't get away with _everything _inside their walls. For one, serious criminal offences were not to be exempt of law-keeping. Pokemon Abuse encompasses one of the many under that list.

Best part? Anybody can report it given a sufficient amount of evidence presented; most of the time, they come running faster than you can blink. Sulphur was of high priority on their watchdog spreadsheet. Not of the higher-ups' own volition, of course. Some of them couldn't care less about the common folk, yes, but most of them can't do _anything _about it. Believe it or not, in recent years, I found that there are powers which are far and beyond that of regional governments. More or less, money and how much you possess will be the determining factor as to where you sit in the planet's master control.

This philosophy was... influenced by Delia, for sure, but I like to think to maintain that world view meant that I also gave to it original thought. If I was her, the situation would elicit the same response from me as well.

But, enough of those ramblings. The here and now was the front desk of a high-ranking Jenny inside her Sulphur-based office. And boy did she look pissed.

"I don't like the situation as much as you do, ma'am. Unfortunately, we simply don't have the jurisdiction to override the requests of companies as big as the ones which occupy this city. My sisters had warned Region Officials from day one - we shouldn't have given them so much leeway. At the end of the day, thick wads of cash will make even the strongest-willed tempted. For them, cash is king. Our economy was in a rut." Leavening her officer's cap to wipe her forehead, she breathed a sigh. "However, now that we have evidence which officially breaks the agreed terms of court we have an excuse to interfere. We have this gang's whole operation busted now. No more underground fighting clubs, no sir. And for that, you have my thanks, Mrs Ketchum."

A soft grin formulated. "It's not me you should thank. It's my son."

The Jenny faced adjacent of Delia, sizing Ash up. "Is that true, young man?"

"Yeah. Thought the Metang the guy had with him did all the work," he said, winking at the invisible Psychic-type Pokemon next to him in a flash. "Speaking of the gangster, what will happen to his Pokemon?"

"Well, we won't give it back to him if that's what you are thinking. I can think of a hundred reasons why we shouldn't. And I am not really in the mood to be an asshole today, so..." With that, Ash released a gush of air he didn't know he had been holding all this time. "Though what comes next will be up to the jurisdiction of my superiors, not me. Namely, the Pokemon League. Trouble is, it has never been registered as a quote-on-quote 'official' Pokemon before. Legally, it is still considered Wild. Its fate is anyone's guess."

"So the 'Mon will be placed here under house arrest?" asked Delia.

"In a manner of speaking, yes. At least for the time being."

Ma huffed. "Sad situation..."

"I know."

We soon became lost in own trails of thoughts. Killing the silence, Ash eventually perked up. "Hey, wait a minute. If he's wild, then..."

"Yup," Jenny affirmed. "Anybody can catch it. That's why a Chansey is treating it, to answer your earlier question. To keep it in a Pokeball is to legally own it, and that's what the department needs least right now."

"Then, when can we go see him?"

A raised eyebrow. "You are not thinking what I think you are thinking, right? You don't even have a trainer's license yet."

"No, I just want to have a chat. Find out what happened. Before all this mess."

"Sorry, officer." Delia chuckled lightly to leaven up the situation. "Ash, that was very rude of you."

"No, no - he's got the right idea," Jenny interrupted, to her very apparent surprise. "Trainers would kill to catch Pokemon as rare as the Metagross line. A Pokeball is all it takes."

Ash immediately stood from his seat. "Then we better get going. And fast."

"Ashton, be reasonable. It's not like anybody is going to swoop in and take it from us. In a department building filled with Officers, you would be just screaming for handcuffs-"

As if on queue, deafening sirens blared from cove speakers all around us, almost jolting Ash back down on his seat. In a rush of panic, Jenny stood up from her seat and took a peek between her office blinds. The chaos of humans and their Pokemon fleeing from the building in a frenzy only confirmed her fears. Certainly matched to the incident the speakers were describing.

**_"Attention all visitors. An unidentified group of individuals belonging to Team Rocket are currently staging a robbery of some kind in the Medical Ward of the PokeCenter. If you are in the vicinity, please evacuate immediately. Should you Pokemon find itself within the boundaries of this robbery, please do not panic. Officers are being dispatched to amend the situation. This is not a drill. I reiterate: this is not a drill."_**

"Oh, me and my big fat mouth... Ash, let's..."

"Yeah, do not panic my ass," Jenny grunted. "If they managed to get in that easily, who knows how many they have already stolen..."

"Jenny?"

"Off to get my Growlithe..."

"Jenny?"

"I told them, I told them, and they just wouldn't listen-"

"Jenny!"

That shook her out of her stooper right quick.

"Yes, ma'am?"

A pause. "Where's Ash?"

* * *

**Already on their first step to building their team! With a pseudo-Legendary, no less.**

**Review and tell me what you think! Where should this story go?**


	6. Oxidation

In hindsight, leaving Delia and that Officer to their own devices and having them suffer from the lack of knowing whether Satoshi was going to be okay or not was overtly cruel, even for my tastes. Despite what my eyelids tell them by being locked in positions of perpetual frowning every waking second of the day, most people fail to realise I may well be the least grumpy of all Pokemon to date. Among the Legendaries, at least. More on par with Mew, come to think of it. You may point out the extent of my Psychic abilities prove otherwise, which misses the case I trying to make against myself entirely.

I can use my powers to an effect, but I am clueless as to _when_ I am to utilise them. As proven by only using them when somebody else tells me to, the early years of my life consisted of me staying true to my initial purpose all this while: to remain a living, breathing weapon.

I am a follower, not a leader. I don't pull the trigger, the wielder does it for me. When it came to my initial years, I knew next to nothing about where I wanted it to go. Even until now, I think I am the most passive person I know. Hence me unquestionably sequestering to Ash's wishes of turning him invisible and getting him and me out of the office. Cheeky fellow, using the alarm as a distraction.

Arceus, had any Legendary's eyes fall upon me at this stage, them spitting at my feet in disgust was among the least unexpected things I believe would occur. Thankfully, Ash and I had a long ways to go before having any real and meaningful interaction with one.

...

Uh, back to reality.

Much like salmon flopping against the concentration gradient of upstream rivers, I lost count of the number of people we had to push past in order to reach the Medical ward. The sight of a ten-year-old scurrying past us to _get_ to the hazard they were running from certainly gave us warrant for being come under scrutiny, but they were probably too panicked to care for a person they barely knew. Especially when _they _were involved.

Team Rocket was serious business around these parts - infamy was drawn from the number of heists they have pulled in the past within the region... and succeeded. They had in their possession Pokemon which far outranked most normal folk; the criminal organisation has seen to it to spare no expense pedestrian Pokemon either if anybody dares challenge them. If I overheard some of the chatter from my Rocket 'supervisors' correct, the team had a major culling performed within the ranks to root out the weak and incompetent in an attempt to gaslight the image that they were a nuisance rather than a threat.

Clearly, the strategy was working.

Them pulling this off, especially in such a closely-guarded city, was audacious... though not far out of the realm of possibility. To this day, I still fathom how easy it was for them to pull off a heist as grand and major as this one without receiving the slightest stink-eye from Border Security prior. Maybe the higher-ups were not paying their security team enough from them to care and not look the other way when Rocket money was being offered. I'd imagine they were paid handsomely for their services.

Screams and shrieks filed through the halls in a steady order of variance and uncertainty. Names of Pokemon... cries from the Pokemon themselves. What Rocket was doing was so cartoonishly evil even I struggle to rid the image of Giovanni twirling his moustache out of my mind.

Breeding programs within Rocket itself would be so much less labour-intensive and taxing as well. Indoctrinate the newly bred Pokemon from the first waking seconds of their lives and you avoid the hassle of robbery and moral dilemma of inflicting unspeakable pain upon the denizens of the universe. That way, you won't have hesitation among your ranks if some were raised with moral compasses. Some species are not the brightest tools in the shed, after all.

Jeez, Rocket should hire me or something. I am a wellspring of all ideas illegal.

"Are we getting _any_ closer to that Metang yet?"

Hearing emitted words of some form, I stared blankly at the child following my lead before physically bashing my brain box to remind myself that I am on yet another race against the clock. Only, this time, I now have a second opportunity to not muck everything up.

And, with that weight sagging by my shoulders, an uncertain reply stuttered from my telepathic mind.

_"We still have a ways to go. His Energy is soft, but it's getting stronger."_

Ash let out a hasty breath. "Well, progress is progress. I just hope he's okay."

* * *

Thanks to my tried-and-trained ability to detect one's life force, we met little resistance as we trekked through the facility. I may have been a Legendary with 'immense potential' or whatever the hell those scientists tagged me as, but as they say, two are always better than one - and in my case, it was in the hundreds. To engage in any battle was a lose-lose situation. It was either I lost straight off, or Giovanni would know my whereabouts, which puts Ash and his family in danger. I admire Ash's confidence and optimism, but sometimes, cynicism may prove better for your health in the short and long term.

Eventually, I managed to get close enough to the source of Psychic Power to detect exactly where that Metang was hospitalised.

_"He's down the third hall to your left. If we get there quickly enough, we won't have to hide in any more utility rooms."_

A mock cough escaped his lips. "You phrased that as if you were asking me a question. What are you... a masodi... masoceest... maso... whatever! But _since_ you really like waiting in storage rooms for some strange reason, then let's-"

_"Okay, okay! I got your point the first time, Ash. Arceus..." _A pause of thought. _"And it's 'masochist', in case you were wondering."_

"Smartass," he chuckled. "Where did you learn all these complicated words from, anyway?"

_"What, was me being in Rocket not a good enough indication? They overcompensate for _everything_."_

As his brows furrowed, he crossed his arms, scrutinising the chicken leading the pack underneath a veneer strong enough to level skyscrapers. "Still, besides the point. You don't have to beg for approval every time you think of an idea. You have one that you think will work? Go for it! Nobody has more validation of your actions than yourself."

A slight frown, then a barely audible mumble. There was no equivalent to the sheer _extent_ I embody a pushover. _"...I guess."_

* * *

In our heads, we reasoned that barging into the ward that the Metang was resting in was a relatively sound idea.

As Ash and I found out prior, the entrance doors were built of specially constructed material which prevented the ability for any Pokemon, Psychic or otherwise, to peer inside to spy on whatever lain within its contents. It was a smart design choice, seeing as the privacy of many patients would be forfeit without them; my guess is that an abundance of thieves or criminals would be tempted to stroll their way inside using Pokemon that could see through walls for their own nefarious reasons, particularly the occupants which beheld significant wealth.

This unfortunate security feature prompted us to simply force our way inside instead. Which we promptly did in a flurry of loud banging.

Whatever it was we expected in here, we certainly didn't anticipate a Rocket member occupying the room with us.

From that point onwards we vowed that we approached any hostile situations a little more cautiously. If our assailant had already sensed our presence prior to us entering, we would have been caught off guard and would have been done for. We got lucky this time.

In saying this, however, Ash had broken our gentleman's agreement so many times I sometimes wonder if it was worth abiding to its set terms in the first place when he freely breaks the fundamental purposes of it being there regardless.

Classic Ash.

In front of us was a young woman just shy of twenty years old, whose hair crumpled messily down the back of her neck with greased flare, feet raised and held with tension; even her general figure and attire gave us immediate clause as to assume that she didn't have the best intentions towards the handling of our unconscious Metang.

My keen feline eye subsequently flew downwards to the one round object which kept on her person, fiddling with it as she faced our rescuee.

Black and yellow stripes. I could recognise that anywhere. An Ultra Ball.

I couldn't let that stand.

With but a thought, the Pokeball flung from her fingers and united with my hand as one, the entire ordeal ending so fast she barely had the luxury of digesting that Rocket's most recent escapee was in the same room as her, in the flesh.

Tossing the device to Ash's waiting hand, another ball of Psychic energy formed on another fist. Trembling eyes bore it plain.

I sighed. The jig was up long ago, my feline form slowly unfeigned and decloaked before her very eyes.

Her actions supported my theory that her synapses paused for a _brief _moment to perform a double-take.

It took her a while to respond with an iota of recognition of our presence. Seeing as my powers were already cocked and loaded, she had no logical choice but to raise her hands upwards and open as a show of submission.

She obeyed like so. No further advancements were made.

Our 'intense' stare-down only lasted a few more seconds before Ash finally broke the silence, as par the course when it comes to these silly confrontations.

"You work with Rocket, right?"

"I..." So much as a shuffle from Ash's initial position was enough for her skin to bleach even further. "Yeah, I w-work for them."

"Okay then, good. Then you can also answer something that has been bugging me ever since I got here. A lot of things, actually." His eyelids and palms open for emphasis. "Why raid a place like this? Especially now? Getting through security must have been tough, but it's going to be tougher getting _out_. You all don't strike me as 'high-risk high-reward' type people."

Contemplating eyes survey his form before her eyelids shut. Her neck craned towards the ground, frantic breathing soon calmed - steady, steady intakes. "You'd be right. In most cases, we keep a low brow if we can help it. But something happened, something big. Big enough to warrant a series of raids in succession taking place all throughout the week. And most of us ground-level grunts don't know what."

Nodding in understanding, Ash threw a knowing glance at me before motioning for her carry on.

"I... I didn't get the full picture, but apparently after the loss of an 'important asset'-" A scowl quickly manifested on my face, making her slump on the couch a bit. "I guess that's you they were referring to. Uh, where was I? Ah, well, he decided to gather sample DNA of the healthiest Pokemon for superior genetics or whatever reason. Collection for _what_ exactly, I don't know. Either way, it can't be good. Ask me, I think Giovanni was a bit too quick on the trigger. It's so... _unlike_ him to have a kneejerk reaction like that. Guess you were pretty important to him, huh?"

I shook my head. "You_ don't know half of it."_

"So what's your mission?" Ash chimed in, just as every bit as curious as I was.

"To scan for Pokemon with the most optimal EV and IV and then capture them. What Giovanni wants with them, I don't know."

"How on earth would he go about doing that?" Ash raised. "Caught Pokemon are caught for life. You can't just take them; the Ball wouldn't even open."

"Actually, the mole in the League said otherwise. That Ultra Ball you carry?" Her finger shot at it. "It's a custom model. As well as functioning as a normal ball, it overrides ownership of any domesticated Pokemon entirely. Lab boys did a lot of good work for a bad cause. And this is just their one of their many 'innovations'."

"And even after knowing all of that, you still work for them?"

Though she said nothing, the expression on her face told us all we needed to know. Shame. But I have other plans. I wasn't about to give any quarter to someone who was aware of what joining Team Rocket meant. Going by their interactions I can only assume that Rocket has been a thorn in everyone's backs for a substantial amount of time. Their wickedness was plain and bare for all the world to see, and if that hadn't already swayed this woman from joining Team Rocket, for what reason should I treat her differently from any other grunt thrown my way.

Arceus, I better be careful before I cut myself with that edge.

Luckily, I would know later on that judging people in the manner I handled this interaction was a very shallow depiction of what it means to be a truly moral person. And I still regret how I confronted her to this day. Second chances were foreign concepts to me, so were motivations and what it meant to be a creature capable of fallibility. Mistakes were things I was willing to overlook if it appealed to my own view of what Rocket was.

Took me a long time to realise that the world, including Rocket, was grey. Nothing should be dealt with in absolutes.

Unfortunately, in the here and now, I was too emotionally-compromised to really care about the venom I spat.

_"You still working for them is more of a reflection of your true character, if anything. How can your Pokemon possibly look you in the eye if they know_ this _is how you really see them? Fruit for picking?" _A dimmer glow of purple light washed away the attack I had set up before. Her neck was now held at half-mast, downwards. _"Now if it's all the same to you, I'd rather much keep you away from our Pokemon safe and sound. Arceus knows if the stench of your qualities as a person hadn't already woken him up. __You won't remember any of this interaction. You will be transported to a hallway far from here, clueless and probably bumbling about like an idiot. Thank you for your service."_

A sickly indigo brume emanated on the palm of my hand, growing ever so slowly. Had the woman not halted the process then and there, I am not sure whether or not I _could _prevent the ball of energy from dispersing into the general vicinity. "Wait, wait!"

Little could mask my annoyance at being the one _pleaded_ at by somebody affiliated with Rocket.

"Let me preface by saying that I believe that everything you said was true. Joining Team Rocket was despicable. Hurting Pokemon is despicable. I never should have thought of it, much less decide on anything which benefits them as an organisation. I know it sounds lame, but I... I never wanted to do this. Pokemon mean the world to me. I love them."

Turns out, that didn't do much to reassure me. If anything it made the ball on my hand illuminate even brighter._ "Which explains why you,__ clearly motivated by the sheer love you have for them,__ joined up with Team Rocket."_

"I know how hypocritical I sound right now. And I am sorry, alright?" Her eyes shifted to her feet. "Actually, no. 'Sorry' won't cut it. It's just... the subsidies Rocket provided... I couldn't pass that offer up."

_"Elaborate."_

"My family could never keep their feet on the ground financially. Even when Dad was still well he could only find jobs at retail. And before that, thrown out of his business by his very own business partner. Screwed him over by framing him over some financial fraud he didn't commit. Then Mom got killed in a hit and run; probably thought her purse was full of goodies because of Dad's connection. Turns out he was a druggo who got into a very bad trip. But otherwise, we would have been fine and dandy. Living on the lap of luxury even. He was one of the co-founders of Devon."

Ash's eyes widened considerably. "_The _Devon?"

"Yeah. That Devon. And there was so much bad mouthing exchanged between his and other big businesses that his career image was ruined. His record was so tainted nobody wanted to work with him. So he went off looking for work that would accept just about anybody. Storage at one of those Department Marts. The pay was awful. He rationed every day just to make sure I got to eat. Then... then a forklift fell on his back in a freak accident; his spinal column was fractured in three separate areas. He was paralysed from the neck down. At that point, the breadwinning fell to me. Couldn't sustain my Pokemon journey, no matter how much damn Pokedollars I earn from trainer battles - so I quit. And _medicine_... yeah, I thought the medical field would work out for me. Then I could fork over the cash to keep him hooked up to the tube. So I went to uni. Couldn't get the damn scholarship no matter hard I tried. So I had to pay the fees in full. I saw four figures.

"By that time I was already very desperate. I was living off Instant Noodles, my tenant was going to cut off utility and I had no reliable back-up plan that allowed me to attend my seminars. I was young, stupid. Naive is the word I am looking for. Looked online until I found a cushy website who was looking for hire. A sister company what was really a recruitment centre for Team Rocket. The middleman said I was able to choose which work sector I got into; was hoping for a quick stint at Forensics and Archeology... then get out for brief periods of time so that I can visit Dad and manage uni projects. Repeatedly assured me that I was all covered and my goals would be fully realised. And what do you know?" She sneered bitterly. "People lie. Couldn't do anything about it, though. A Typhlosion may as well have a Fire Blast cocked and ready behind my back."

I remember still considerably bothered by the agent, but by then I was already formulating what the grunts of Rocket really were. Desperate people under desperate circumstances. That sympathy hadn't stopped me from my tyrant, however._ "All that research was being_ directed _at something you know, projects or otherwise. They may seem innocent enough, but your groundwork, however indirect, will go to something else that puts people in danger regardless. Everything you contribute that you_ think _is harmless goes up the chain in command and helps their scientists further their endeavours. It's a lose-lose situation._"

"I realised that too late into the job."

_"But my point yet remains," _I pressed. _"Unless there's something compelling __you can make against my argument__ \- a justification that going to take being blessed by the Lake Trio themselves to sound the slightest bit convincing - I can't let you leave this room unscathed."  
_

"I know."

A long, laboured sigh.

"Which is why I have come to this decision," she declared. "I quit. Giovanni can come in and catch this Metang himself for all I care. I was planning on quitting after this job anyway - I already got my wage packet for the week. But I figure this is a better time than ever. And if they come after me, they can pry my Pokemon from my cold, dead hands."

She stole a glance from Ash. Unclipping the pouch she had wrapped around her waist, she unzipped its containments to reveal a Trainer's holy grail. Everything from Super Potions to Rare Candies was stacked top to bottom in the thing. What drew our attention the most, however, were Pokeballs identical to what Ash withheld on his person. It was a treasure trove. To witness her toss the whole pouch towards both our feet so haphazardly may as well be a desecration of religious iconography.

"Take it. All of it. I won't be needing those anymore. And frankly, I think you blokes need it more than I do."

Two incredulous thousand-yard stares answered her back. _"You have to be bluffing. Where else would you get the money to pay for your father's condition?"_

"My memories are up for grabs, man. I am not lying," she retorted. "And to answer your earlier question, it's Pokemon Racing. It only cropped up recently in these parts, so I doubt you would be in the know of what it means for us. Long story short, I don't need to be there physically to collect my share of the cut."

Unconvinced. _"They are going to hunt you down; you know that, right?"_

"Don't worry about me. My Porygon already handled it. To them, I may as well have been a small expense on their Inflow/Outflow statements."

The woman then proceeded for the door in an unsure yet hopeful gait, her business already through. I was hesitant to let her pass, but Ash's reassuring hand told me I didn't need to worry so much. Her claims were too outlandish and specific for it not to be true to canon.

We tracked her movements all the way through the touch of the doorknob. In a last-minute decision, she spared us another look.

"My name's Elizabeth Devon, in case you were wondering. My friends call me Eli. What's left of them, anyway. I hope whatever issue you have with Giovanni is sorted soon. For now, goodbye."

You couldn't back out of an exit ending with a conclusive statement of that magnitude. Thus, she stayed true to her word, promptly shutting the door behind her.

Just like that, we were left alone. Just us, and an unconscious Steel-type nodding off and oblivious to the world around it.

* * *

"Sir, lab boys came back from the preliminary testing. Good news, method and procedure are green. It's possible to create an improved version, but splicing all the genes of all Typings will be a time-consuming process."

"Time? Fortunately, I have all the time money can buy. The only thing that matters is you succeeding in creating the ultimate lifeform for me to utilise. And this time, it won't have the opportunity of escaping from my grasps once more."

"Wiping all the corruption and injustice with one fell swoop is one hell of a task, sir."

"Fortunately for you all, I have the power and the will to follow it through."

* * *

**Eli needs a good amount of Water Gun to douse the copious amounts of roasting she received from Mewtwo.**

**As always, I encourage you to review the fic if you have any feedback or suggestions about where this story should go (I'm kind of making it up as I go, lol).**


	7. Viscous

The evening rush was at its apex - what would normally constitute for round-the-clock scurrying by hospital residents was instead replaced with the dull monotony of rumbling traffic and disgruntled breadwinners fleeing from yet another day at the office.

Team Rocket heists usually do that to perfectly upstanding PokeCenters. Like corn fields plucked dry well in advance of the harvest season. Yet another example of how the end did not justify the means.

It was already late into the afternoon, well after our confrontation with Eli, but unless we were given a clear indication that the heist has finally wrapped, we weren't moving an inch from where our butts were stapled, no sir. As I said, my ability to sense life auras were to an extent, and that extent didn't extend to the entire hospital facility.

That didn't mean we were silent the whole time, though. Hushed tones left Ash's lips as did mine as trembling eyes early awaited for the Metang's awakening, brief attention flickering upon his glistening metal frame every so often. The topics ranged from the Beldum line to the Pokemon League, to Ash's own life and back again.

I didn't have much to say about my own as, well, that was all there is to it. I may as well have been a blank slate. Either that, or he'd have to hear a lot of pent up whining, and, well, I didn't want to make a bad impression on the only person my age that had even bothered to take up my burdens, so to speak.

What I _did _learn was more so about Ash himself. I didn't bother playing twenty questions; his life experiences up until this point was typical for youth his age - well, minus the escaped experiment sticking with him out of cowardice rather than clear self-volition. What distinguishes people from one other were their individual personalities, habits, hobbies, ambitions. The title of 'Enthusiastic Pokemon Trainer' was not what, as much centre space as it took within the hearts of many, defined people. Too shallow an explanation and perspective - for me at least. Tch, ain't that ironic.

It's natural for a ten-year-old to act biased towards his competencies as an individual, but even _I_ admit he was a tad bit boastful in his formulaic years. Honestly, half of the moves he proclaimed he would command his Pokemon to use - I am not even sure if they exist. His well-mannered lies were so easily distinguishable from the truth through his _physical _mannerisms alone I struggle to comprehend how he hasn't blurted out to Mom about where I truly came from yet.

Precisely how I managed to draw a skeletal psychoanalytical profile of Ketchum, all in my head - all the while saving you three hours worth of drivel which often led to the isle known as nowhere. At least we had a good time.

...

You know, some of the things I thought were justifiable to carry out are linked to common mannerisms related to emerging cases of sociopathy upon reflection.

Having said that, here's what I gathered from interacting with him extensively:

_\- He's sociable and open._

_\- He has a good shoulder to cry on._

_\- He's rash, but rarely ill-meaning._

_\- He acts on emotion rather than logic._

_\- He's empathetic and forgiving, to a fault._

_\- He's spontaneous; never had been one for forethought._

_\- He sees the good in everyone, even if they have done morally questionable things in the past._

_\- He rarely judges people based on first interactions._

_\- A staunch idealist and always seeks out the light at the end of the tunnel._

_\- He's denser than a black hole, a trait he regrettably acknowledges._

_\- He's very competitive - outclass him and you better make sure you are ready for a rematch soon._

_\- He rarely hesitates to get across what his intentions and feelings are concerning a topic._

_\- He won't stand for those who push him over, or worse, other people._

_\- He tries his best to match the self-sufficient type, but he would never seek people out to show him how out of hubris._

_\- VERY insecure about his flaws and does everything he can to rectify them, even if he's going about it the wrong way._

_\- When he puts his mind to something, he won't ever be satisfied until he finds an outcome he deems agreeable._

_\- Make friends with him and you will be friends for life._

_\- And most notably, a trait he rarely prides himself upon but others may admire, he would do everything in his power to ensure he puts the interests of others before his own._

Out of sick curiosity, I later looked up these traits on the internet to see what the professionals had to say about the boy. A Mediator, they would call him. Apparently, in the minority.

Meanwhile, on his end, he most likely gathered that I am:

_\- Closed off; would prefer to snake my way out of confrontation at the first sign of an opportunity__._

_\- Conservative about my feelings, even to those I care about._

_\- Laced with unconfidence - practically tied myself up in a minefield filled with wired fences and explosives._

_\- Utterly dependant on others to map out my own life for me._

_\- A total push-over, no two ways about it._

_\- Too undecisive to make sweeping judgements of people at all (including Giovanni, ironically)_

_\- More emotionally unstable than an infant struggling to recall why he was throwing a tantrum in the first place._

_\- Insecure about being alone despite being decidedly anti-social._

_\- A guy who tends to retreat to his safe space in situations which requires the slightest iota of __effort or dedication__._

_\- More likely to take it rather than dish it._

_\- Vulnerable to periods where I spontaneously decide to turn myself for the better through having a change of habit only to later back out of my commitment in three days' time because that's just how much of a screw-up I am._

_\- An indoors person because the outside world is so big and scary._

_\- Above all else, a person who has a propensity of cordoning my thousand-hectare comfort zone off using moats as deep as Kyogre's Lair._

You know what they say about how opposites attract and all that. I never thought I'd be involved in the equivalent of it in real life. And I am _so outclassed_.

I chanced a wary glance at the Metang again after our long and drawn out interactions. It goes without saying that he did not possess the standard cardiovascular system like most organisms of flesh. We wouldn't even know whether he was resting soundly or calculating with that combined IQ how he should approach the situation without us knowing.

Hopefully, it was the former. In the meanwhile, however, he hasn't displayed any outward signs of consciousness.

For all the time we waited, it was only a matter of time before a certain someone's stomach acted up. Ash's arms curled around his belly like how a Sandaconda would constrict its neck, his cheeks forming the telltale rashness of embarrassment.

"Can't you just teleport the three of us out of here and find a restaurant or something? All my tummy is gurgling on is air."

_"I'd rather deal with the Jennys now than heading off_ _outside_. _If not then they'd have to broaden the scope of their search and waste everyone's time."_

"Ugh! Trust me, they will understand once they see the state starvation has put me through."

"_Unless it's life and death, you'd catch on hot shit if you are only doing it to sate something you can satisfy later. __Your mom would kill me for doing something so... Ashton."_

"It's sarcasm, Mewtwo. For how much you use it you sure have trouble picking it up," he relented, soon after smirking. "Well, maybe you could wake him up yourself with those powers of yours, then we can all leave."

_"Among all the powers Rocket has ingrained in me, recreation was not one of them. I can wipe his mind clean... but all the cushy bits, memories, personality and stuff - I don't know how to do it without, well, kill-"_

_"W-what's this about wiping my mind? I... HOLY-!"_

Ash and I swung our heads toward the PokeBed to reveal an awake and spooked Metang gawking at us with quivering eyes. It's flattering as it is unnerving that he chose to give me central attention. As if on instinct, Ash's hands cocked up, palms exposed, in an attempt to soothe the beast.

"Look, I know things look bad, but we are all friends here," the boy reasoned. "Remember us? We saved you from that guy at the alley."

He stared at him in contemplation before nodding. _"Oh. Yeah. Yeah, I remember you_. _But I c-certainly don't remember _him!_"_

Ash sighed. "First of all, calm down. You shouldn't be scared of him that much. _He's_ the one you should thank, actually." The Metang reeled his head in shock, facing me. "Bonked the guy over the head with Psychic so hard he got lights-out immediately. Even then, I doubt he'd hurt a fly. As for where that man is, you'd have to ask the Jennys."

_"I..." _He turned surprisingly solemn at the news of his abuser being incarcerated. _"Yeah. Alright. It's... it's for the best, then."_

A rigid stillness soon took a stranglehold of the ward, neither party having the gallantry to properly articulate what we needed to articulate to avoid any future griefs and miscommunication. His perplexing comment on the whole situation left us much to ponder over, but in the end, we shrugged it off as victim trauma.

Surprisingly enough, it was the Metang who decided to initiate the proceedings in our place. He bounded off his cramped backside and sank his weight just around the mattress edge. Fiddling with the equipment (tubes?) attached to various places on his body - probably to help with his malnutrition - he took another look at us with fagged eyes.

_"You know, he wasn't always like this."_

"Hmm?" Ash perked, daring to exchange a look with him.

_"Marcus,"_ he emphasised. _"The guy whose lights you blokes knocked clean out. You could have gone a little softer on 'im. He's a tad fragile."_

Ash's shoulders sagged. "Wait, you still care about him? Even after he, well..."

_"Um, I know what you are thinking - and please don't take this the wrong way. I am not suffering from Stockholm Syndrome or anything like that. Uh, at least I _think_ I don't."_

"If that was the case, you'd look a lot less collected than you are. I believe you." He pursed his lips. "So what about him?"

_"__What to say... well, I love him, no doubt about it,"_ the Metang reaffirmed. _"Marcus is sort of my surrogate brother - it may not look like it now, but we have heaps of history. We both escaped from the same bad situation. The only reason why I am a Metang and not two Beldums is cos I was forcibly evolved by those black market mercs. Experiencing identity death was freaky; hope I won't have to meld again. Uh, anyway, he's how I got out of evolving into a Metagross. We escaped together. He has since stuck through with me all these years; still is. Er, was. He only really changed once he tried one of those 'getaway' drugs."_

Ash raised a sceptical eyebrow - denseness was also one of his defining character traits I forgot to mention. He never really grew out of it. "I thought it was common knowledge that drugs were very bad for you. You couldn't miss those ads on TV even if you tried. Everybody got in on it - I know my Mom did, at least."

Oh Ash, you naive idiot.

_"I... shit, how do I put this?"_ the Metang trailed, thinking aloud. _"Even though the warning signs were everywhere, i__t wasn't enough. You know what they say. The more you publicise something you shouldn't do, the more likely people are to do it. We saw those PSAs and ads all the time that took the piss. I guess he didn't get the memo. It was... it was more so out of desperation than curiosity."_

The Metang sighed defeatedly.

_"A brief, dopamine-fueled getaway; promised himself he would get off of it as soon as the nightmares stopped. He needed to take the edge off. Most nights he wakes up screaming. He'd do anything... anything was worth it if it could make him forget about_ them_ for a while. He looked so scared..."_

"Who's them?" asked the sweet summer child.

_"It's a lot of explaining, mate. Explaining I reckon I shouldn't give so soon, for Marcus' sake. It's just... I can't do it. I am sorry, I owe you every explanation and more - just for saving my life alone. But... I just can't. Not right now. I... understand if you blokes are pissed."_

"Oh, come on. Why do people always assume the worst of... look - bottom line, we are not mad, case closed."

_"What do you mean?"_

_"People shouldn't be entitled to learn of others' secrets is what I_ think_ he is trying to say," _I filled in.

"Mew, I am _hurt_."

_"I... I don't know what to say,"_ the Metang breathed. _"__Thank you."_

"Pleasure."

...

_"So... what now?"_

"Oh. Uh... we didn't really have much of a plan on what to do afterwards. We are kinda just holed up here until the Jennys arrive. The waiting game. We wanted to get to you as quickly as we could."

The Metang shifted from where he sat. _"Wait, couldn't, uh, Mew check for any outside?"_

_"Not for the whole building I am afraid."_

_"You don't know how to? Wait, gimme a moment." _

Following up, the Metang sank his eyes downwards and angled his form towards the floor, raptured in concentration. We looked at him with rapt attention - it took a while before the results showed, and boy did it. A wave of psychic aura washed over me as I felt it span the room and soon beyond it. The walls were no inhabitants for his powers as they normally would. I stared at him with stars in my eyes.

_"How did you..."_

_"Don't ask me. As soon as I melded, using the move became second nature to me. And it seems to me that the coast is clear."_

Back straightening, the question wavering over all of our heads became more pertinent every waiting second. With mutual unease, we turned our attention toward the door. Clearing his throat, Ash motioned at it with a stiff wave.

"So, uh, if you feeling alright and all that, wanna come with?"

* * *

_"My accent? Well, I came from a region colonised by Galarian humans, so I sound somewhat like them. It's called Thoria. Heaps more brutish though, as you might have picked up."_

The empty halls made it so our journey towards the entrance was a relatively painless endeavour. Some wards had their doors blasted open and scattered haphazardly at the seams. Peering inside we managed not to find a single soul present inside. We assumed the worst.

Even though the Metang slightly stuttered in his levitation, we were more than happy to slow the course of our journey.

"Thoria?"

_"It's South-East of Oblivia._ Very_ South-East - two continent's worth. Marcus and I came here like we were refugees; we certainly acted the part. At the time the Internet was still catching on with the rest of the world, so Thoria existed in its own little bubble. Don't even get me started on the government. We have __conservative bogans for citizens and politicians with charisma as shallow as a kiddie pool._ _Imagine our surprise when we saw just how many technological advances we were missing out on. It was an absolute culture shock to see some level of competence in the region!"_

"There is still more of the world to be discovered, too."

_"Exactly."_

Unfortunately, education within Rocket Labs for me did not include history or geography - general knowledge was unnecessary for a weapon like me. As a result, my knowledge of the world remained within the walls. Outside and beyond that... my knowledge was superficial at best. Overhearing the scientists, I could make out some semblance of settlements and society obviously existing outside the labs, but nothing could have prepared me for how_ much _of everything there is. Like an animal released out of captivity having their constant food and water sources stripped from them and having to hunt on their own. If I hadn't met Ash when I did, I would have resorted to becoming a thief without having known it.

Even now, comforted by the presence of Ashton and Delia, I still can't help but feel overwhelmed by how much of the world I am oblivious to. I could only hope, in the days to come, I could integrate with society and present-day technology with the help of Ashton.

...Arceus, all this talk and monologuing centres around me so much I beginning to think I am a narcissist at this point.

"You never told me why you were so shocked to see Mewtwo, by the way."

_"Well, you wouldn't understand. Maybe if you were Psychic or Ghost-type, then you would. It's just... the sheer_ amount _of Psychic power I sensed in him is astronomical. It's like he's a..."_

_"Legendary. I get it, very flattering," _I finished for him, sighing. _"This is going to be a recurring thing, isn't it?"_

Ash let the world's loudest chortle. "I mean, you'd assume so, right? You are the first of your kind. That'd raise anybody's eyebrows."

_"True."_

Based on what the directions told us we were apparently closing in on the hospital entrance soon. No doubt some Jennys were kept posted and on guard to look out for further unwanted visitors.

Problem is, we were leaving. We were going to have a hard time explaining just how we got in in the first place without having been engaged by any Rocket personnel and get out scot-free.

_"Oh, Arceus. How are we going to explain this to Mom?"_


	8. Chromatography

Set your expectations to their absolute bare minimum and you will never be disappointed. Such is the nature of realism, and such is the nature for man to reject what has already been set in stone.

I'd say that is a good excuse as any to explain and justify my lack of surprise once Delia had finally reunited with her little pumpkin.

I know I had expected as much when Delia first laid her tear-ridden eyes upon the three of us. It was like staring into the gates of the Distortion World itself. The Metang, she mostly left out - she had far too deep of an empathy level to bring the rescued down to the same level as the rescuer.

Miraculously, I had some of the blame lifted from me as well. Even though I provided the means for us to have escaped the police station in the first place, she proclaimed in front of everyone, including the Jennys which accompanied her, that I was merely manipulated by someone who she claimed had far too convincing of a 'silver tongue'. Oh yes, my secret was not so secret anymore... she had disclosed my identity to them just prior in a mad dash to locate just where Ash and I went - a less wise, younger version of me would have scoffed at her broken promises and betrayal, but I now have the reflective introspection to note that what she did was for the best. It was safer for the authorities to know of me sooner than later. That way, they wouldn't treat me as some sort of insurgent force in the future when I _did_ cause some ruckus that's inescapable from the public eye.

Even then, the chances of a whistleblower leaking my identity out to the press were slim to none. Being a family-run operation, only the closest of friends and relatives were allowed to join the Kanto-Johto police forces. Luckily, Jennys were women of their word. They would never, under any circumstance, rat anybody's secrets out - not even that of the worst criminals.

It has since been a solid eighty years and, as far as I know, my secret is still a secret. In that regard, they have my complete and utter respect. It's not at all easy to trim the grapevine in an organisation as big and expansive as the one they are running.

The _INTERNATIONAL _police force were the ones I should be worried about, really.

Anyway, getting ahead of myself; no - I was only to be blamed partially. The boy who had in it the drilling of the century was none other than Ashton.

In a drained nigh-infinite rant, I got out that Delia wasn't necessarily angry about the act itself. She was elated, dare I say it, to learn of her son's willingness to go the extra mile to protect those who cannot defend themselves. What she couldn't get over was the fact that Ash did not seem to trust her enough to inform her of his plans before his decision - hurt that a bond that runs as deep as blood cannot be maintained over something as menial as _permission_. Yes, she was frightened as all hell for Ash's safety, but that became secondary once she unearthed the real reason for why he snuck out.

She did not spout such things in front of the Jennys, of course - only after leaving in a rush I highly doubt any authority would have the capacity to halt did she relay it plain and clear. She was like a bulldozer - flattening everything in her path right through towards their hotel suite. The Metang and I had no choice but to trail like so.

The next thing I knew, we were lounging on the couch watching the news.

...while Ash and Delia quickly locked themselves inside the spacious bathroom.

I had only known the contents of their discussion because I overheard the whole commotion. No one was supposed to hear them, not even me. But I _just_ couldn't help myself...

Even if I made an effort to block out all sense of hearing - curiosity got the better of me. And in the end, my fine-tuned ears proved too much for my conscience.

I heard enough to tell you Delia sobbed her heart out and that I felt like shit in turn. I wouldn't wish such a pain to happen upon anybody. Would it have been better if I hadn't bothered to stay with Ash at all and leave them alone? I gave them so much baggage I doubt they have the strength to carry on further. Nobody should.

At the creak of an open door, my attention quickly diverted. Ash came out of that chamber, a shell-shocked and frazzled look etched on his face. Delia fell in line later, red cheeks still radiating. I could have sworn hearing mumble a quiet 'sorry' before pulling back. Lectures were never her thing, I take it.

Her eyes then shifted to the window blinds. The orange light splattering through the cracks told her all she needed to know about the time of day. Freezing, she breathed a solemn sigh before catching our gazes determinedly.

Situating herself in the middle of the room where all three of us could see her, she crossed her arms close to her chest before breathing in.

"It's almost evening so my shift is starting soon. That whole mess took far too long to get sorted. I hope I didn't make a bad first impression. Children, am I right?" A laugh she herself was unconvinced of left her lips, and despite it, an irresistible snicker bubbled from my throat. In return, Ash threw her a poisonous, scowling glare, but I had it under good authority that she wasn't particularly bothered by her son's opinion. Her gaze readjusted upon the guest in question. "So, I guess introductions are in order. My name's Delia and I am Ash's mom, though I am sure those two told you that already."

The Metang nodded an affirmative.

"So... I guess you have a good reason as any to join Ash, given your history with..."

_"Marcus."_

"Yeah, Marcus. In any case, I just want to get this out of the way first - again, I am sure you already talked about this at length with Ash, but I just want to set the record straight. I genuinely do not have a problem with you sticking with Ash; I am not just doing this out of pity either. Honestly! It's great to have another person to talk to in the house. I simply want you to understand what you are getting yourself into. You are leaving a lot behind. Your past life and so on. Leaving your master behind... that's a big decision you can't back out of."

That turned out to be a sticking point if his widened eyes were any indication. Her insinuations just started to register with me then. _"...How did you know?"_

"If you had wanted to leave, you would have done so already. And I doubt any of us _could_ have stopped you."

Whirls of thoughts spidered through the ravine of his mind, withered shrubs barely clinging on to life.

_"That's... a strong way of putting it, miss."_ He managed to stitch together a bittersweet simper in spite of the subject matter._ "But I get what you mean. At this point, I just hope he gets the right help. I made a series of terrible mistakes. I should have known Mark was sneaking out to get some more; on the nights that I_ had_ my suspicions, I didn't act on them. Then we could have avoided this whole mess. But right now, the only way he is sobering up is in a jail cell. Time is all he will need. I know that's all we needed. He was too far gone before you guys came, anyway. And if it takes me being gone for him to realise and recognise his shithousery, then so be it."_

Delia paused in thought... her gaze slowly swerved towards the kitchen. As she sauntered her way to fill a glass at the sink, The Metang held a fixed look. "Do you have anybody else to go to - any relatives? Maybe you could contact PokeServices and ask them to find your folks. The Metagross line was recognised as one of the S.A.S. species not too long ago if I am not mistaken? That'd get you places."

_"Even if they did find them, I doubt they'd let me back in. Thanks for the sentiment, anyway." _Unbeknownst to the rest of the room's inhabitants, I slouched, puckered lips gracing the matted floor. As if his past couldn't get any worse than mine! I didn't want to accept that my passiveness were things that existed on my own volition so soon, and yet, there I was. A sorry excuse of a person.

"Okay, just exploring options."

Her business done, she waltzes over to the dining table and plucks out her handbag before she pivoted, facing the three of us once more.

"They are going to call me in soon, so I may as well get a headstart. Arceus, this job is speeding up my date of expiry. Once upon a time, I would be in the fields camping with my Pokemon; all gone, now. I get only five hours of sleep as is, then I have to hit my morning shift. And you have all the folks complaining about a fake strand of hair and trying to get a second helping and it's just..." She rattled her head. "But nevermind that. I am sure you three are hungry, so feel free to use the telephone. Anything specific you want...?"

_"Huh?"_ The Metang shook himself out of his stupor._ "Oh, yeah... Well, I wouldn't mind some Rock Candy,"_ he muttered sheepishly.

"Yeah, I think we have some of those in the pantry. Comes with our PokeMenu. If you need anything else don't hesitate to call the front desk. I will make sure to have our first _real_ talk with you both soon, alright? Don't be a stranger, er, what's your name?"

_"Mine? Oh! It's Thomas."_

"Well, I hope you have a nice evening Thomas. You two be good company, okay?"

"Sure thing Mom," responded Ash.

And, just like last night, she promptly pressed onto the doorway and left without another word.

...

We swiftly readjusted and fixed our gazes onto Thom.

"Why didn't you tell us sooner?"

_"You never asked!"_

* * *

_"You have to remember that the vast majority of us don't go out looking to do bad for the sake of doing bad. There's always a caveat, an underlying desire which the perpetrators know they cannot ever reach... so they take their frustrations out on others because they cannot deal with their problems themselves. Whether or not they are aware of what they are doing is another story entirely, see. But deep down, most of them are the same: they are scared, and they don't know how to express it besides masking it with cruelty. People are people, and people like them are no different. They just need the right help. Idealistic, perhaps_ too_ idealistic. I have had my optimism curbed so many times I sometimes question whether it's worth it. But hey, we can_ make_ it worth it.__"_

It was a fleeting thought, but I decided that my input wouldn't be very valuable, anyway. Ash barged in in my stead. "Gee, you could make a killing authoring a self-help novel or something."

_"If I didn't have claws for hands, I would consider it."_

Silence.

"...you rehearsed that whole speech, didn't you?"

_"Guilty."_

They proceeded to share a laugh so bombastic it nearly toppled me off the edge of the bed we hunkered down on. That didn't do my box of fries any favours. I toiled to keep them grounded as is.

On the second night, I recall the three of us sprawled out on the same mattress, having dinner and catching up with the League fixings. The battles were closing in on each other tighter than the day before; made for a good game where we all formed our own little bets. You pay by having to do whatever favours that strike their fancy in the days proportionate to how many bets you win and lose. It made for both a frustrating and entertaining time.

"So you don't have a problem with the ones who set up the fight club?" Ash continued.

_"No, I do. Just not nearly to the extent where I despise them. I still remember what they did to me - did to Mark. They were grooming him. Imagine - grooming a twenty-year-old. The worst part? Whatever they were saying, it was working. Some of them... some of them were very aware of what they were doing. It showed."_

"It's not too late to... what's that word? Er... testi..."

_"Testify?"_

"Yeah, that's it. Well, some of them will get away scot-free and might do the same thing again."

_"Unfortunately, I don't have a say in the legal system. In the eyes of the law, Pokemon cannot be trusted in the reliable conduct of legal action. That means any Pokemon, including select Pokemon which were granted funds to pursue uni courses as they have proven to match with the pre-requisites, aren't entitled to accuse or convict anybody of any crime. Pokemon can't enact normal court proceedings themselves-"_ The TV screen crackled with an explosion which rocked the building. Reeling in shock, Thom laid his head on the bed frame._ "-CRIKEY! Straight in the gob, that Dreepey. Blimey, that's got to hurt."_

"I mean, she's a Goodra, but still... she's not going to eat comfortably in a while."

_"Right on; anyway, what was I saying?"_ His claw clicked sharply._ "Ah! Well, the 'smart' Pokemon would have to get a lawyer to verify that their claims are or were legitimate. I would normally agree with the process, if not for one thing..._

_"The law encompasses all of us - regardless of our capabilities to express sentience; sapience is not good enough for them, naturally. The trouble comes when in the scenario where they are legally required to not put stock in the word of a Psychic Pokemon over, say, a Bug-type. I am not saying all of them are dumb... but I think I would rather trust my life in the hands of a Hatterene than a Caterpie."_

Meanwhile, a rather nasty tumbleweed rolled through the suite in a fit of raging indifference, leaving in its wake the bare traces of bewilderment. In response, we simply chose to stare at him weirdly for an extended period of time.

Ash was the one to break the glacier.

"Hell of an explanation, but okay."

Made aware of his tomfoolery, Thom let out a tickled chortle. _"I ramble. I tend to lose one or two brain cells along the way."_

"So you are not mad? At all? I'd sure be if I knew some folks had more rights than me because of how I look."

_"Change is slow; it takes time. All of us will have rights soon enough - we will get there. And hey, it's not like those gang members don't have their reasons for acting that way. Abuse is hereditary. Everyone involved never really gets over it."_

"You sure do find a lot of excuses to justify a lot of things done by people you don't know."

He flashed us a kindred smile. "I_ am generous like that."_

An awkward chuckle later, we resumed half-spectating and half-ignoring the Pokemon Tournament, each of us playing with and idly pondering the implications of our situation. Chewing on my fries, the program slowly but surely blurred out of focus as my eyes trailed off to the side.

No doubt most of our thoughts consisted of the many paths we are to take in the future, each providing different outcomes with varying degrees of reasonability and success. I can't speak for them, but I remembered my musings quite clearly. It fundamentally shaped the foundations of who I am today - hard to forget a scenario which put me on the spot as much as this did.

In the end, I didn't have the courage to step forward to confess my feelings - the usual. I had Thom fill in for me instead.

_"I know it's not the time, but I have been debating with myself for the past hour about whether or not I should say this. I have, but I think it's better if I talked about it while it's still fresh in my mind."_

He withheld a treble of delipidation, but in the end, he let it slip. "Sure."

_"Marcus and I, back when we just joined the fight club... we made quite a name for ourselves in the Underground Fighting Ring. Even so, I was never the best fighter. My sheer size and innate abilities alone made it so I had an easier time beating all of my early opponents. Wouldn't call bashing someone's head in an innate ability, now that I think about it... and that is exactly what I wanted to ask you about. _

_"Mark and I, we are not natural combatants. I just so happen to belong to a very powerful species. We scrape by most victories usually. We eventually got into a tier that we just couldn't beat. I got clowned. It was a buy-in type system, and we ended up paying for it. Hard."_

"Where are you going with this?"

_"Well, I figured that if I were to be in the hands of legal Trainer, then I would have a solid chance..."_

"You are not doing what I think you are doing, right? I'd be taking more of your freedom than you already have."

_"Ash, I have nowhere else to go, nowhere else to turn to. If I reclused myself to the wild, I wouldn't know how to hunt. Even then, I feel queasy killing stuff, even if they are Roggenrola. Hell, a deer even. I was raised a city Pokemon, and I continue to remain one - that's something I am not changing about myself. The domestic pathway is my only option, realistically. Where better than to be on the team of an aspiring trainer who also happens to be a decent person?"_

"You know I can't turn down something like that..."

He rolled his shoulders stiffly.

"It just doesn't feel right... doesn't feel fair."

* * *

**Sorry for the long wait my dudes. I have been slacking and I really don't have an excuse :/ **

**Other than that, enjoy the fic. **


	9. Precipitation

My sudden interjection into their exchange was as random as it was mood-killing. The cove lights were killed well over an hour ago, so the TV was our only source of illumination; with city lights dully piercing through the hotel window and temperatures well below average, the atmosphere was absolutely drenching. You'd expect any sane person would get cosy in their blankets before, slowly but surely, nodding off.

Now that I think about it, I can't for the life of me think back to a time when I had been _sane_. Like always, I couldn't have just gone along with the occasion.

It was an unceremonious thing: the blanket was quickly yanked off me in a state of blinded urgency, plate in hand, as I levitated off the bed and breezed into the entrance hall. As you would expect, they broke off from their conversation near immediately due to my antics.

_"Is there something wrong?" _Thomas piped.

Hurriedly dusting and wiggling crisps of fries off my fur, I nodded in a flurry of unconvincing slurs. _"Nothing serious, I promise. It's just that whatever Ash said didn't translate to my order correctly__. They, uh, left out my chicken wings. I was going over to tell Delia about it."_

...to which I promptly drilled the cardboard plate down the garbage chute sitting next to me. I like to think they bought it. Certainly looked like it at the time.

_"Chicken wings? What are those?" _Thom inquired, head tilting. An internal tide of relief washed over me.

Pivoting to his right, Ash was more than happy to fill him in. "Chickens are something like Torchic, just without the brains. They're not Pokemon or anything like that - think... farm animals, bred for their meat. We are not _that _sadistic; Pokemon is off the menu entirely."

His metal-brows raised in alarm. He had never seen an animal before, I take it._ "Ah. Good to know."_

"Anyway," Ash turned to face me shortly thereafter, "couldn't you just call the front desk and talk to them about it?"

I shook my head side to side - careful not to let my lie slip so easily. _"Nah, they already went through the bother of coming up here already. Don't need to have them walk their way up _twice_. Besides, __I can't stay immobile for too long anyway - my... abilities are getting a tad bit cramped. Like... like I haven't expelled a good amount of it in a while, and I need to release the tension. You wouldn't know unless you were a Psychic-type. You feel it too, don't you Thom?"_

For some benign reason, his eyes did in fact eyes light up. _"So_ that's_ the dull feeling I have been getting lately. It's like that itch that __you just can't reach __for the life of you__!"_

I was about to say I was spouting complete horseshit before clamping my jaws shut, not willing to look the gift horse in the mouth. Going by his sudden Blanche expression, I reckon Thom, in his vitriol, caught on to my antics too. _"Exactly."_

Thom nodded thoughtfully, sauntering, a cheeky smile forming._ "Huh."_

Promptly, my face lit a faint tuck of a smile._ "Anyway, you guys can go on chatting without me,"_ my shoulders reel, slowly but gradually,_ "I am barely contributing much to be in the conversation anyway."_

"Are you sure you know your way?"

Consciously or not - I can't really recall - I frowned. _"I am not a dog, Ash. I have been through this place before on numerous occasions. Even if I did, I am not illiterate. I am sure I can find the kitchen just as any normal person."_

He bothersomely slouched. "If you say so... don't need to get so defensive, Mew." I recoiled, committing his remarks to memory. This was the first time anybody ever acknowledged my need to not stick myself in the thick of it. About time somebody called that part of me out. Otherwise, I would never have moved on from that rut of safety nets and security.

I'd say I am making progress now, but there is hardly anyone still alive who would dare to keep me in check. Am I that unapproachable? Guess my appearance _would _dissuade some people. After all this journal writing is sorted I should go out and socialise with the young ones more - throw in some presents here and there to bribe them over.

_Oh, how I would have loved Ash to know of the extent to which my insecurities laid._

Hurriedly snatching a spare keycard from the power conduit, I departed their quarters in a clumsiness rivalling that of a toddler's.

As I ambled around the corridors and halls of the _Casablanca_, my thoughts all trailed back to the same thoughts, the same gut feelings: that deep down, I understood the underlying meaning behind his concerns for me.

* * *

I lied about the bit about having to snatch some chicken wings. I wouldn't have been able to stomach a hefty meal regardless, what with a river moat's worth of clout building barricading my conscience.

The roof entrance had been relatively easy to spot out. Needless to say, the stairs didn't seem like they were an enjoyable thing to traverse; luckily, my ability to levitate rendered that issue moot near immediately.

Suppose being an illegal experiment pays off in the end, even if I wished I had been born into a quiet life.

Reaching the top, I nudged the emergency door open to meet a calm and mellow wind bristling against my fur. I didn't care about wherever I went, just that I did. I soon found myself floating just by the edge, the lights of the city fluttering at me with indifference.

It was an image embedded within the depths of my mind forevermore: a splatter of hues draped across a well-oiled canvas.

Rows of neon and LED globes invaded my senses, my eyes squinting in retort; there persisted light pollution so dense it swallowed the colours of the night whole, a staunch, everlasting blackness only yet remaining. Monoxide came and went from my nostrils, not enough for a hacking but more than enough for a sneer of unbridled disgust.

Unlike my first rodeo within the city skylights, I paid little heed to the hubbub of automobiles and pedestrians which seemed to dominate a tourist attraction such as Sulphur at night. What replaced the chitter-chatter were the accompanying thoughts and musings of a synthetic being, struggling to carve out his own place in this wide, open world.

It was a spontaneous thought at the time, but the more I thought of it, the more it made sense. I never _did_ have a place for myself in the grand scheme of things.

Nothing really stood out as things that I should accomplish for as long as I lived. Any normal person would have a list of priorities decided from when they were in their youth. I never had much of a prepubescence-hood to begin with... so purpose through experience is out for the count. I only lived how those scientists directed me to - true, I held that well-established disgruntlement with Giovanni close to my chest, but not once did I come close to acting on my prerogative. I simply followed people like a loyal Growlithe, obeying my master at every whim and turn, every command they gave.

Retaliation and resistance came naturally for the others. Why can't it for me? I have already accepted and moved past the fact that the crippling childhood excuse was not the source of my mannerisms, not really. The more I thought about it, the more it did not bode well with this blame-game narrative I am trying to justify myself, _works_.

There was never a justifiable explanation as to why I am as cautious and closed off as I was. Now that I had identified the reasons for me being the way I am, it was high time I managed to move on, right?

That's when it became clear to me, clearer than it ever had before: I never _had_ been able to.

I was always some other's _vision_, never someone's acquaintance. But, here's the thing: so were others.

Thom, for the most part, was right. People were people.

Most goons I encountered were disenfranchised and alienated. Angry. Willing to put the finger of blame on anyone but themselves because they see otherwise as an act of weakness. I would have travelled down the beaten path had I not met Ash when I did.

Most insurgent groups - in the wrong, obviously - had their members undertake a strict by-the-books recruitment process, influenced by their masters to believe in morals and ethics which only serve to benefit themselves. For all they knew, they were doing the right thing... it's hard to change one's perspective if it was one they had been told was justifiable since childhood, especially when the world seemed to ignore them every step of the way.

Joining an organisation of the like only gives them a safe space to vent their frustrations indirectly, shirking their problems and performing well for something which distracts them rather than confronting the cold, ugly truth. Camaraderie and adventure are temporary solutions to healing, but for them, it may be enough. If it gives them a sense of purpose they believe is worth fighting for, then anything goes.

For the youth, it's a four-step process: depluralisation, self-deindividuation, dehumanisation, demonisation. There's a reason why it's a tried and true method that has been in practice for thousands of years. The influential and powerful simply emboldened and perfected the way this process is distributed to the masses.

Heck, if I had switched places with them, I'd be none the wiser. Just imagine all the things Rocket could have done with me then. I said it once and I say it again: _amateurs_. Make no attempt to divulge into why I mask and gloss over my considerable trauma with humour if it can be helped.

Then, there are the mental cases... people who are _perfectly _conscious of their actions and what it entailed towards others, and yet continue to perform such actions anyway. Nothing gives them more satisfaction than watching the world burn.

Anyway, back to the point.

Some may have simply turned a bad leaf on life, so they take out their anger on others while having the stubbornness to believe that their stories justify their actions. Some are forced into a life of crime and can't back out of it lest their head becomes a commodity on the pike. And the most common cases were the ones that manage to rise above it all despite their circumstances. To become more than the sum of their parts and forge out a path in life which brings happiness and fulfilment for them and those around them. Very rarely do we receive true basketcases that are beyond the point of reasonability. Clinically evaluated fellows and the like... yeah, no excuses there.

So, circling back to the issue at hand...

I knew nothing about society at large, how it functioned, how it cycled. I wasn't aware that whites couldn't go with the colours in the wash, or how it was rude to part from the dining table without pardoning yourself first; basic, day-to-day things like those were as alien to me as the dreams of achieving some sense of normality were to every child cordoned off and chained from the outside world.

Yet, those same people would always find a way to adapt to their surroundings and to make the best of their situation, sometimes excelling at them. Not me.

Ultimately, I don't _have _an excuse for being the way I am. I know myself and my flaws quite well, dare I say so myself, so I have already familiarised myself with the problem. The truth was a little muddled between the lines, but it was discernible all the same.

So why haven't I taken action?

Fear of rejection, fear of failure?

They were a given, I have come to recognise and acknowledge them long ago. So, I ask myself again: why are you the way you are, Mewtwo?

_Why must you be such a pushover to those around you?_

_Why, despite you knowing of what you must do, choose not to do them?_

_Why are you so afraid of _commitment_?_

It was as if a needle shot from the heavens and lanced through the balloon hovering over my head; as sudden and heavy as the downpours which swept Gilgamesh and his companions away from the shores of land and whirled into the mercy of the gods. That one moment of quiet vulnerability on the rooftop was the first I ever had to myself since our escape... and the first where I didn't have anybody to lean on to distract myself from everything which had led to that point.

My fingers trembled, sore, knees threatening to buckle. I pursed my lips dry. Arceus, I felt disgusting. Amber and the others tossed their freedom in the trash for what, for my ungrateful ass? So that I could forget all about them the next day? So that I could surround myself around people like Ash and use _him _as my way of diverting my sorrows to unrelated interests as well?

I felt the soles of my feet kiss the concrete - that I did so unconsciously shakes me to my core till this day. Then, breathing stalled, muscles tensed - my stomach lurched to force out bile I fought to keep in. The moon shone over me - a dull grey gazed under the scrutiny of a trillion stars.

There was no brushing it off. No running away now. Not this time. The ropes which helped my restraint snapped and sundered before me.

I crumpled onto the ground, hands plastered over my shuttered eyes - I looked the part of a whimpering, dying dog. Would have been a pathetic sight for any other of my contemporaries - to bear witness to a Psychic sprawled on the floor, weeping for none other than himself.

Gods, never before had there been a moment in my life that I felt more scared than I did then.

I hadn't even known that tears could taste so bitter.

I only managed to get a grip of myself when the first raindrops fell from the heavens and jabbed me right out of it. Shaking my head frantically to unload and refresh my miasma of thoughts and current top priorities, I made a mad dash into the hotel - quick. My self-pity session would have to be continued later.

Not my brightest idea to mull over my thoughts outside when the clouds were black as ink.

As soon as the door shut behind me, the back of my head slammed against it as I went through the motions - breathe in, breathe out, in, out, in... and out.

Better now. Much better.

Enough time for me to mull over just how much of a drama queen I am.

Only a couple days have passed since I burst out of the cocoon Rocket hand-weaved for me. I am not yet in mid-life crisis part of life and I am already starting to feel sorry for myself. Things would seem bad if not for the fact I had only just begun getting ahold of my bearings. It could have been so much worse, now that I think of it. Could have been in the hands of a poacher, or worse, a Pokeslaver. Ash stepped in in their stead.

Maybe I _have_ overreacted. Amber and the rest are, for all intents and purposes, residing in fine seas. Team Rocket wouldn't throw away those I was closest in connection to so haphazardly. If so, then so too will all their practical progress in turn. There's still data to be extracted to last a lifetime, even without me.

...but so will their efforts of cloning the perfect living lifeform come closer to fruition. As proven by their excavations into every Kanto tunnel network imaginable, for all they knew, Mew was _the_ Original One. Logically, that leads to the assumption that Mew's kind was among the most powerful in Pokemon existence. History aside, Mew's power was the one assumption they did not completely butcher.

In other words, they would try to create a clone of Mew. Again. This time, I doubt they would impart the same training regiment onto whoever they have in store in the coming months. Certainly not as lax, I would imagine.

_What I wouldn't give to have anybody not go through everything I had gone through then... _

Then, a trail of lightning along my moat... and soon, a fierce, tenacious spark. My eyelids grew wings, and my back stood at mast; vision slowly adjusting to clarity. My tail unfurled, fur standing on edge.

I knew what I had to do now.

Bulba, Squirts, Char...

Amber.

If I wanted to make my vision of the future seem feasible, I would need to train harder than I ever have before.

Bad influence on my opinions or not, what Rocket failed in inspiring, I thought Ashton excelled at. What Ash said on the bed yesterday was certainly an idealistic outcome - too optimistic and direct, no room for compromise, not one iota of nuance. Even so, it was a _purpose_. I would have _purpose_. A reason for me to be here, the final piece of the puzzle I struggled to fit myself inside of.

What I can't find for myself now I will help find for others, those that were as lost as me. Ash wielded in his hand a vision far more ambitious than Giovanni could ever hope to conjure. And it was a vision I thought was worth fighting for.

I nodded. And thus, I was decided.

_Rocket, I am coming for you._

* * *

**Kept you waiting, huh?**

**So there you have it: the turning point. Review if you have any suggestions as to what I should add/change in the story. Criticism welcome!**


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